


Follow the Yellow Brick Road

by ohstars, sparkstarthetrashcan



Series: Strung Together Universe [4]
Category: Fantastic Four, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Big Bang Challenge, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Friendship Troubles, Gaslighting, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Platonic Strings, Red String of Fate, Road Trips, SVBB2019, Soulmates, Spiderverse Big Bang, mcu characters but not compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-09-30 20:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/pseuds/ohstars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkstarthetrashcan/pseuds/sparkstarthetrashcan
Summary: In a world where strings tie people together, showing off their true bonds in various colors and placements, Peter and Miles have gotten used to their strings. From the string on Miles’ elbow that he shares with his dad to the string on Peter’s knee that he got from his aunt, their strings have become background noise in their busy, superhero lives.What happens when their strings start to change? When a dead string comes back to life and another bursts into literal flames? Can they figure out what’s going on without damaging the string that ties them together?





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker and Miles Morales pass on their spidey wisdom as they babysit Morgan Stark, the Iron Baby.

Peter picks up the blocks and tosses them into the cloth basket in the corner. “Morgan, we clean up after we play,” he tells her. 

Morgan babbles nonsense as she plays with her stuffed Iron Man in Miles’ lap. 

“Yeah, you tell him, Morgan,” Miles says, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist.

“Don’t encourage her,” Peter says, glaring over his shoulder. 

“Aw, but it’s so much fun,” Miles whines half-heartedly.

Morgan leans back into Miles’ chest and shrieks with laughter. 

“Besides, Peter, she’s a toddler, what do you expect?” Miles says with a smile.

Peter shrugs. The blocks are all put away so he moves to sit beside them. “Pepper says we have to talk to her like she’s older and not one. This way she knows how we do things or something like that. Guess it helps out in the future?” 

“She’s Tony and Pepper’s kids, she’ll be in second grade by the time she’s five. She’ll be fine,” Miles says.

“You’re not wrong.” Peter reaches over and takes the toddler. “Can I play?”

Morgan shakes her head, hugging the doll close. “Mine.” 

“You won’t share with your favorite uncle?” Peter pouts, bottom lip quivering and his eyes watering. 

Morgan’s brow furrows as she leans into him. “Mine,” she says weakly. 

Miles stifles a snicker, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

Peter presses his lips together to hide his own. “Okay fine. It’s yours. I’ll just play with my own doll,” he says. Peter looks around the room and spots a plush Thor doll on the couch across the room. He slings a web, snatching the doll over to him. 

Morgan gasps, “Gain!” 

“I don’t need anything though. I have my doll.” Peter shows her the Thor doll. 

Miles looks around and spots a Black Widow doll under the couch. “And I’ve got mine. Look at our lil’ avengers team, all ready to fight the evil mastermind…” he looks around the room, spotting a teddy bear, “Doctor Teddy!”

Peter thwips the bear over to them and takes a hold of his back. “Tis I, Doctor Teddy!” he says, voice growly. “Prepare to cower in defeat!” 

“You’ll never beat us,” Miles says in a high pitched voice, wriggling his Black Widow doll in the air, “We’re the Avengers!”

Peter pauses as Morgan slips off his lap to sit on the floor. “That’s your Widow voice?”

“Hey, I’m trying my best here,” Miles chuckles.

“Yeah, sure, okay.” Peter rolls his eyes. 

Morgan sits in between Peter’s legs and points her hand at the Wasp doll. She makes grabby hands for it, flailing her wrist like… like she’s trying to shoot a web. 

Peter grins. “Need a hand, Spider-Morgan?” 

She whines, looking up at him. Morgan keeps trying to shoot a web. “Psch, psch,  _ psch!”  _

Peter sets down his dolls and takes her hand, folding her middle and ring finger down and making a thwipping motion toward the Wasp doll. “Like this,” he says angling his hand beneath hers. “Now say it.”

“PSCH!” Morgan screams, and Peter shoots out a web, bringing back the Wasp doll for her. “Did! Me did!” 

“You did it!” Peter cheers. 

“At this rate, you’ll be a better Spider-ling then the both of us!”

Morgan claps her hands, the little green string on her wrist dancing with the motion. It’s barely an inch long, but it sits in the middle of her left wrist. “Gain!” 

“What do you mean ‘again?’ We already have all of our dolls! Now it’s time to defeat Doctor Teddy, remember?” Peter wiggles the bear toward her. 

She kicks her legs. “No. Gain.” Morgan leans forward and does exactly as Peter showed her. “Psch!” Nothing happens. She whines, bottom lip jutting out as she looks at her wrist. Morgan picks at the string, pulling on it.

Peter grabs her hand. “Hey, no. You have to be careful with that, Morgan. You pull on it and it gives you an ouchie.” 

“Ouchie?” Morgan asks, tears watering her big brown eyes. She looks to Miles, holding out her wrist. “Ouchie?”

Miles nods, wincing at some of his own memories. “Ouchie,” he confirms. “It’s not fun to pull at your own strings.”

“Stwing?” Morgan looks down at it, brow furrowing. “Stwing?” 

“Yeah, it’s your string!” Peter holds out his left hand, where a yellow string wraps around his palm. He rolls up his sleeve to show the green and gray string on his forearm. “See, these are some of mine.” 

Morgan reaches out to touch them, but her fingers only touch skin. The strings evade her touch, like opposing poles of a magnet fighting around an invisible sphere. 

Miles smiles, “Only the two people connected can see the path, or touch it. It’s just a path for the two to share.”

“Mine?” Morgan points to her string. 

Peter nods. “Yeah, you and your daddy share that one.” He pulls his hair back to show two identical black strings on his head. “I share these with my parents, just like you and your mommy have one on your head.” 

She touches her head, where a small gray string sits in the center of her head. She can’t quite reach it, but she’s trying. 

“That’s the one!” Peter laughs. “Do you know why you have that?” 

She blinks up at him.

“You have a really strong relationship with your Mom,” Miles pipes up. “You can have any string color in the world, as long as it’s formed from a strong relationship.”

Morgan turns back around and picks at her string. Then she points her hand up toward the toy car across the way, near the cloth basket in the corner. “Psch,” she says. 

Peter thwips the car over, catching it before it could hit her head. “Whoa, you’re almost too strong Spider-Morgan.”

Miles shakes his head, smiling even as he says, “Tony’s going to kill us, we’re such bad influences.”

“Like he’s any better.”

“What was that?” a voice asks from behind them.

The boys turn around from their spots on the floor to see Tony and Pepper, both dressed to the nines, standing behind them. 

Morgan stands on wobbly legs and points at Tony. “Psch, Da! Psch!” 

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. 


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the lives of the spidey boys.

Peter swings onto the barren rooftop, web trailing behind him. 

Miles follows close behind, paper bag in hand.

“That was a close call,” Peter says, lifting the end of his mask up over his nose. “I didn’t think we’d get that done before sunrise.” 

“I’m telling you man, the Green Goblin gets more insane each time we fight him. I mean, is he working with Mysterio or something?” Miles says with a small laugh, brushing some dirt off his suit.

Peter sighs as he sits on the ledge. “It’s all these tech advancements. Every villain thinks he’s the next Steve Jobs now that they have the Internet.”

“Too bad they’re fighting Gen Z’s!” Miles jokes, sitting down beside Peter and rummaging through the paper bag, grabbing his burger before passing it along.

Peter grabs his, unwraps the sandwich, and takes a bite, mustard and ketchup splattering onto the concrete. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and rests an elbow on his knee. “I’m getting too old for this.” 

“Peter, you’re like, what, eighteen? You’ve got at least five more years of being Spider-man until I kick you off into retirement. Enjoy it while it lasts,” Miles teased through a mouthful of food.

“Only five?” Peter shakes his head. “Thanks for the job security, Morales.” He takes another forceful bite and looks up at the cloudy sky.

“Your welcome,” Miles hums as he absently twirls with their string, admiring the stark yellow colour.

“You ever wish for a day off? Where you can just… stop? No school, no Spider-Man stuff, just you and whatever?” 

“Well, you’re only a couple months from being out of school,” Miles points out. “But you can always take a day off - isn’t that why you let me be Spider-Man with you? I swear you said something about that.”

Peter shrugs. “It’s hard to hand over the reins, ya know? And I’ll be going to Empire State next year, so it’s not like I’ll be done with school. I’ll just have a bigger workload, if that’s even possible.” He takes another bite and leans back, upper torso dangling over the quiet street. “I think being Spider-Man is going to get me killed,” he admits, voice soft and fragile as if the very words would push him off the ledge. 

“I-” Miles begins, but the words get lost along the way and he just sighs. “This job hasn’t exactly got any health benefits. I knew that going in. But we’ve got each other to watch our backs. We’ll be ok, yeah?”

“Of course,” Peter says. He sits up and grins. “We’ll be just fine.” Peter claps a hand on Miles’ shoulder and takes another bite, leaving a tiny piece between his fingers. “We’re stuck with each other, kid.”

“You can’t get rid of me. It’ll be like trying to unstick ourselves from cardboard.” They simultaneously shudder.

Peter tosses the last bite into his mouth and crumbles the wrapper into a ball. He tosses it into the air like a basketball. The wrapper hits the door to a little shed and bounces away. Peter thwips a web at it, bringing the crinkle ball back in the blink of an eye. “Can’t have that, can we?”

Miles swipes the wrapper from his hand. He flings it into the air, catches it and then looks at Peter with a mischievous grin on his face. “Race you home?”

Peter tugs down his mask, the mask’s eyes narrowing. “You’re on. Last one there buys snacks for tomorrow’s study session.” 

“You can’t just do this to me, I already spent the last of my pocket money on some new spray paint. You know this!” Miles whines.

“And I bought the burgers. Your point?” Peter hops onto the ledge, knees bent and his left hand steadying him on the concrete. 

“My point is-” Miles pushes Peter out of the way and leaps off the ledge in one move, “-you snooze, you lose!”

Peter groans as he falls back, plunging toward the street before he thwips a web onto a nearby building. He swings after Miles, trying to propel his body forward with as much momentum as he can. He catches up to Miles in just a few blocks. 

Miles bites his lip, then grins. He takes a sharp corner into a nearby alleyway before disappearing around the next corner.

“Seriously?” Peter calls as he jumps over another roof. He sprints across the building and jumps onto the next street, swinging his way around the corner. 

And waiting right there is a big web, catching him like a fly. Miles is awaiting on the other side, and just before he leaps away again he heckles Peter, “Who’s the true Spider-man now?”

Peter thrashes in the web, tangling himself further. “This isn’t over!” 

“I’m counting on it!”

* * *

A bag of gummy worms and a six-pack of Coca-Cola hits the desk in front of Miles’ open textbook. “There, Your Highness. You got your snacks, happy?” Peter says as he tosses his bag into the empty seat beside him.

“Mmm, No. I prefer Pepsi,” Miles grins, opening the coke and taking a sip.

“Seems to be going down just fine. You’ll live,” Peter grumbles. He plops down into the library chair and starts digging through his bag. “What are you studying for?”

“Math. There’s this one formula that I just can’t wrap my head around, I don’t know, it’s weird,” Miles explains, pushing his textbook over and showing Peter the page.

Peter shakes his head. “I hated that lesson. Want me to go through it?”

“Yeah, please do. You’re the expert after all,” Miles says as he grabs out some working paper and passes it along.

“Alright, so,” Peter starts as he leans forward. He takes Miles’ notebook and a pencil. “All you do is,” Peter starts explaining the Quadratic Formula step-by-step. He scratches at his hand, tugging at the string wrapped around his palm as he points to each variable. 

Miles gets distracted by the movement. “Is the string itchy?”

Peter’s brow furrows. “What?” He looks down at the pencil rubbing beneath his string. “Oh, yeah, guess so.”

Miles frowns, “Weird. Anyway, sorry, back to the formula?”

“I think it’s a tick or something. I found a scratch under it when I woke up the other day,” Peter says. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and points the tip of the pencil to the page. “Back to this,” he sighs.

“A cut?” Miles says, waving his own pencil around. “And you have no idea where it’s from? Dude, that’s just weird.”

Peter shrugs. “No, I’m pretty sure I scratched it in my sleep. That’s a thing, ya know? Scratching in your sleep.”

“If you say so…”

Peter lets the pencil fall and levels Miles with an exasperated look. “I swear it’s a thing. My neighbor’s baby scratches himself in his sleep all the time. He has to get his nails clipped and sleep in gloves so he doesn’t hurt himself.” He picks the pencil backup and points it at Miles. “It’s a thing.” 

Miles holds his hands up in surrender. “If you wanna compare yourself to a baby, that’s fine by me. Maybe you should even sleep in your Spider-Man gloves?”

“Do you want me to finish explaining this or..?”

“Yes! Ok, ok, continue, I won’t hold you up any longer.”

Peter’s shoulders relax. “Thank you. Now,” he continues. He starts to explain how to plug in the formula, using one of Miles’ examples to fill in the blanks.

“But why isn’t mine scratching?” Miles interrupts not even a minute later.

“Are we really doing this?” Peter asks. 

“C’mon, I’m a curious kid. Like, it’s the same string and mine’s not irritating me,” Miles says, tugging at said string.

Peter throws up his hands. “I don’t know man! How’d we both get bitten by the same spider? I don’t know. It’s just how things work,” he whisper-yells. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Besides, I don’t even think it’s actually itchy. I think it’s more me stressing out and pulling on the one string that I actually feel.”

Miles nods slowly. “Sounds about right. Except my spider was definitely different. How else could I do this?” He absently let a venom-blast run up and down his hand before disappearing again.

“Yes, let’s just venom-blast in the middle of our high school library. That sounds like the perfect idea,” Peter says. 

“Hey man, if anyone asks they’re just seeing things.”

Peter shakes his head, a laugh rippling through his shoulders. “Whatever you say.” He leans forward and tries to explain the formula again. 

Miles suddenly spoke up, “Wait, you don’t feel any of your other strings?”

“Not all the time. Like I feel them, but I don’t _ feel _ them. They aren’t as noticeable. It’s like,” Peter starts. He bites at his lip, tapping the pencil onto the desk quickly. He drops the pencil and snaps. “It’s like breathing. You know you’re breathing all the time, but then you just randomly focus in on your breathing? And you’re suddenly aware of how you’re breathing and how often you take a breath.” Peter shakes his head. “My strings are like that. I know I’ve got my chest string, the one on my knee, and my forearm string, but the one on my palm is the only one that I randomly touch with my fingers throughout the day. So yeah, it’s the only one I feel.” 

Miles paused, looking Peter up and down before a huge grin broke out. “Aw, you care about me.”

Peter shakes his head and stands up. “Nope. That’s it. I’m done.” He starts packing up his bag, shoving his unopened books into the bag and taking Miles’ pencil with them.

“Hey! No come back! No please!” Miles pleads. “Not my pencil!”

“It’s my payment for having to deal with your nonsense,” Peter says as he throws his bag over his shoulder. “Should have thought about that before when you wouldn’t listen. I’ve got an AP physics test to study for and you’re not helping.”

Miles shrugs, snagging the Coca-cola and gummy worms before Peter can and stuffs them haphazardly into his own bag. “That’s fair. Good luck!”

“See you tonight! Meet on my roof this time?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

* * *

Peter pushes through the library doors and hikes the backpack strap onto his shoulder. He yawns, mouth wide and eyes squinting shut as he walks down the hallway. It took him way too long to escape Miles’ web last night, longer than he’d care to admit (which Miles will _ never _ find out. Never.) and he hadn't finished his chemistry paper before his patrol… In other words, he didn’t sleep. Well, he did, but it sure as hell wasn’t enough to fuel his teenage Spider body. 

People underestimate the importance of sleep. Not only is it just purely fantastic, it has a lot of benefits. Your body gets to rest and heal without too many interruptions (but that really depends on how restless you are. Or how many times you wake up to pee.). You get to dream, which is great for your brain and makes for interesting conversations the next day. You also get the chance to digest all the stuff you’ve learned the previous day into your brain, which is pretty cool. Get your brain all saturated in knowledge and stuff, that’s always cool. Everyone likes learning on a fundamental level. Plus sleep is just relaxing, getting to lay there in one place all curled up with your favorite pillow and blanket… 

Not to mention, being well-rested means you don’t yawn. And you know what not yawning means?

It means you can actually see when you walk down the hall. 

Peter’s spider-senses go off as his shoulder collides with someone else, sending his bag falling to the ground and a thundering of books cascade around them. Peter opens his eyes, only to meet the gaze of the one and only Flash Thompson. 

Great. 

He drops to the ground and scrambles to stack Flash’s books up. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching-”

“Yeah, no figure,” Flash scoffs. “Do you ever watch where you’re going? Or is that just something they don’t teach you in nerd school?” 

Peter sighs as he stands, books in hand. He shoves them into Flash’s arms. “There. Wouldn’t want my nerd cooties to contaminate your books. Then you’d actually grow a brain cell and we couldn’t have that, could we?” 

Flash’s face grows red as he takes an impossibly close step towards Peter. “What was that?” 

“All signs point to no life in there,” Peter says to himself as he taps Flash’s forehead. “No wonder you can’t hear, there’s nowhere for the sounds to go.” 

Flash grabs Peter by his shirt collar and shoves him against the lockers. 

Peter groans as his head thumps against the metal and the lock digs into a still-healing bruise on his shoulder blade. “Thanks for the migraine,” he grumbles, reaching up to rub at his head. 

Flash grunts as he shoves Peter again, pushing him deeper into the metal as if it’d bend under his strength. Peter’s? Yes. Flash’s? Not quite. “Listen here,” Flash starts. 

Peter sighs as Flash goes on with some pathetic threat that doesn’t really do anything to Peter. After you get a building thrown on you, you don’t really feel threatened by some kid’s empty threats that seem oddly sexual for a straight kid. Hmm…

The string resting between his pecs starts to burn, growing warmer and warmer as Flash continues to talk. Peter scratches at it as best as he can with Flash’s hands in the way. 

As Flash raises a fist, ready to plow it into Peter’s face, someone clears their throat. 

Peter’s drooping eyes shift behind Flash’s big head to see Midtown High’s local celebrity: Johnny Storm. 

“Back away from the nerd,” Johnny says, crossing his arms. 

Flash lets Peter crash to the floor and turns to face the superhero. “This isn’t your problem.”

Johnny nods as he inspects his nails. “You’re right, it’s not. But Sue’s always telling me how I like to butt into other people’s business. Guess I just don’t know when to stay out of it.” He shrugs and pushes Flash away from Peter. Johnny puts himself in between Peter and Flash, hands on his hips. “You might want to leave before I lose my cool. People say I’m a bit hot-headed.” 

Flash glares at Peter as he snatches his bag off the floor and collects his books. He gives them both the bird as he huffs down the hall. 

Johnny turns around and offers Peter a hand. “You alright?” 

Peter stretches, popping his back. “Yeah, I’ve had worse.” 

“From the look of your nose, I’d think so,” Johnny chuckles. “You’re Peter, right?”

“You know me?” 

“Third period English with Carmichael. I never forget a pretty face like yours, even if its been beaten to Hell and back a few times.” Johnny winks at him as he takes a step back. “You going to be okay getting back home?”

Peter nods, slinging his bag over his shoulder again. “You’d be surprised. I’m pretty capable at handling myself.”

Johnny smirks. “I’d think so. See you around, Parker.” Johnny spins on his heel and heads toward the end of the hall. 

Peter watches as the blond puts on his sunglasses, pulls out his keys, and turns, back to the door, to wave at him. Peter waves back, frozen in place. 

If he wasn’t so tired, he’d be sure that Johnny had checked him out before. 

He really needs more sleep. 

* * *

Miles opens the gummy worms, the plastic crinkling loudly in protest, and plops one in his mouth. He fished his textbook out again, only for his fingers to jar on something firm.

Cursing quietly, Miles sucks on his finger. As he does that, he grabs out his textbook before opening his bag wide enough to see what had just happened.

It’s a picture frame.

Gingerly, he pulls it out. He had almost forgotten about it in his rush the past few days. What with assignments and homework and all.

Uncle Aaron’s face stares back at him accusingly. Miles swallows and absently fiddles with the string that had connected them. Their pinkies had bound them together ever since Miles had been big enough to meet him.

_He had stared up, fascination making his eyes go wide. He had reached up, pleading in the way only little kids could for affection. Uncle Aaron had grinned, obliging his request. _

_“Hey little man, being good for ma and pop?” He had asked. _

_“No!” _

_“No? Why not?” Uncle Aaron asked, grinning wider with every second passed. _

_Miles mumbled out, “I want a happy meal…” _

_“Happy meals only go to happy boys, did ya know that?” _

_Miles squints up at him. “No! They go to sad boys to make them happy!” _

_Uncle Aaron held out a pinkie. “How ‘bout this. You be happy for me and I pinkie swear I’ll get you one.” _

_Miles huffs, but nods his small little head and wraps his own pinkie around Uncle Aaron’s much larger one, sealing their agreement. A string appeared in that moment, bursting with a rainbow of colours before settling in a mix between yellow and green. Friendship and family. _

The memory pulls a bittersweet smile onto Miles’ face. He almost wishes he could return to those days. Before he got his powers. Before he recklessly told the one person he thought he could trust about his new abilities. Before he got into a physical fight with him. Before Uncle Aaron had died at his hands.

Miles rubs away the tears threatening to spill over. He had been so dumb. He hadn’t even thought he could _ have _ extra powers, that he might be different from Spider-Man in his powers.

He had learned his lesson after that.

It had been all his fault.

_“...No,” Miles said. _

_Uncle Aaron folded his arms, leaning over him, “No?” He hissed back. _

_“I don’t want to hurt people,” he said softly, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. His shoulders tensed, ready to be hit. “I want to go home.” _

_Uncle Aaron grabbed him by his shirt, dragging him off his feet. He pulled their faces close together, teeth bared like an animal. Miles flinched. “You will be doing this, or else I’ll tell your parents about everything you’ve been up to. How disappointed will they be, their perfect angel turned into a thief?” _

_Miles clenched his eyes shut, “I want to go home,” he said again. He felt like a little kid, whining to their parents. But he wasn’t and this is his Uncle. _

_Uncle Aaron shoved him away. Miles stumbled, feet tripping over each other and went down hard. Uncle Aaron walked over and Miles desperately crawled backwards, hitting the wall of the roof too soon. Tears pricked at his eyes, making them sting. _

_“This is opportunity knocking at our door,” Uncle Aaron spat, slowly approaching him, arms jutted out like he was offering the world. “And you’re going to throw it all away!” _

_“I-I don’t want to hurt people! I don’t want to steal things!” Miles cried, breaking in a moment of weakness. “I want to go home and be normal!” _

_“You’re a mutant, you will _ never _ be normal! Besides,” his voice softened, startling enough that Miles blinked the tears out of his eyes to look up at him, “you won’t be killing anyone, little man. I know what’s best for us. Trust me.” _

_“I don’t want to be like you, I want to be- be like Spider-Man,” Miles pleaded, trying to get through to him. Trying with everything he had to make him understand. _

_His eyes grew cold. Miles' hands shook by his side, a blue light dancing up his arms when he stomped closer. “That guy brings nothing but trouble!” Uncle Aaron snapped, before his voice grew soft again, crooning. “I always promised to look out for you, didn’t I?” _

_Uncle Aaron reached for him, closer and closer. A headache snapped to attention, pounding behind his eyes. “Leave me alone!” Miles shouted. _

_Uncle Aaron grabbed his hand, maybe to pull him to his feet, maybe to squeeze and prove a point. It didn’t matter. Electricity danced up Miles' arms, through his body and fried his gauntlets. They sizzle and spark, then explode. _

_The force of it sends Miles and the wall he was leaning against flying backwards. He barely managed to correct himself before he splats on the sidewalk, scrambling for purchase on the building’s walls. _

_He felt his clothes singed, his face covered in small burns. Dread weighed him down as he climbed back up the wall. And there’s Uncle Aaron, on the other side of the rooftop. _

_Miles hoisted himself up and ran over to his body, collapsing to his knees. He barely recognised his own Uncle. Everything was patchy and red, burnt black and blue in too many spots. Burnt to a crisp. Miles' breath hitched. _

_He looked around wildly. “Help!” He shouted, voice breaking. “ _ Someone help! _ ” _

_He grabbed his Uncle, his head lolling back as he tried to pick him up. “ _ Please! _ ” Miles screamed to the unforgiving night. _

_The night remained stone cold quiet. _

Miles picked up the picture, hesitating a moment before stuffing it back in his bag. He would bring it out later. Then he would set it up somewhere nice. Yeah, that would be good.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A race to the golden arches, a fire of passion is lit, and the color is brought back into a forgotten string.

“Yo Blue, got somethin’ for ya,” Miles says, chucking the rest of the gummy worms at Peter’s head.

Peter catches it mid-air before it hits his head. “Huh, thanks!” He opens up the bag, pushes up his mask, and dangles a worm over his mouth. 

“Only seems fair, you didn’t eat your portion yesterday,” Miles shrugged.

“Figured you would have eaten it last night,” Peter says as he rips off a worm head. “How’d school go for you?”

“So boring! I could barely keep awake. I was daydreaming about patrolling all day, like, you have no idea.”

Peter chuckles. “I remember those days,” he sighs, looking up at the clouds. “Back when I had hope and joy in my life.” He shakes his head and offers Miles’ the bag. “Seriously, though, we can’t both be getting an hour of sleep a night. That’s not safe. We need a new plan.” 

“But I feel fine on like two hours of sleep. Like, I swear it. I even did an experiment over the holidays once. Three hours is like, me in my prime!” Miles says before grabbing a worm and tearing its head off.

“Spider-Man or not, three hours a night is not healthy. We need to at least aim for four,” Peter says. He shrugs. “At least four hours one night a week.”

Miles throws his hands up in the air, “Four hours?! That’s crazy talk. That’s like asking a pig to fly.”

Peter holds up a finger. “Do not jinx that. I don’t need to fight flying pigs.”

“Now that’s just quitter’s talk. If we’re really going to be fighting flying pigs, they’re gonna be savage, wild flying pigs,” Miles folds his arms.

“Or huge. Like King Kong huge. I can only take so much.” 

“You’re just old, man, leave the King Kong Savage Flying Pigs to me. Go into retirement early,” Miles ribs.

Peter points a finger at him. “I’ll hold you to that, too. Better choose your words carefully.” 

“Want me to sign a contract too? I’ll do that. As long as you buy me a lifetime's worth of gummy worms, I’ll fight all King Kong size animals.”

“No, just the pigs. I call dibs on actual King Kong.” 

“I don’t like this contract anymore. Deals off,” Miles grumbles, scuffing a foot on the ground.

Peter laughs and drops another gummy worm into his mouth. “You hear anything job wise? I thought I heard Hawkeye talking about some sort of burglaries uptown, but I think he and Kate are taking that one.” 

“You reckon we should take it out? Everyone knows the arrow guys of the world are always the damsels in distress,” Miles jokes.

“If Kate heard you say that, she’d put an arrow between your ribs.” Peter tugs down his mask. “It’s kind of out of our way, though.” 

“Is there any other action going on?”

Peter shrugs. “Not that I know of, nothing planned.” 

Miles hums, “I guess if there’s two Hawkeye’s, they’ll be fine. We still gotta work out who’s paying for food this time.”

“Nose goes,” Peter says as he puts a finger on the tip of his nose. 

Miles shakes his head. “Nuh uh, rock, paper, scissors.”

Peter groans and holds out his fist. “Fine. Two out of three?” 

Miles grins. “You’re on!”

“One,” they count. “Two. Three!” 

Peter’s fist stays.

And utterly smashes Miles’ scissors.

“Ha! One for me, zero for you.” Peter raises his fist again. “One,” he starts.

“Two!”

“Three!”

Peter and Miles both throw down a pair of scissors.

“You can’t just copy my style man, that’s just not allowed,” Miles jokes.

Peter levels him a look. “Miles, there’s three moves. And you throw down the same move every round.” 

Miles opened his mouth, and then shut it with a snap. “Whatever man, c’mon, last round!”

Peter smirks as they count together. He throws down a rock. Miles; scissors.

Peter throws his head back as his body shakes with a hearty laugh. He wheezes, wiping at his eyes over the mask. “Oh god, I literally just called you out!”

“I panicked! Scissors is my default. You can’t just diss me like this.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Peter pats Miles on the shoulder. “Guess you can make up for it by buying dinner.” 

Miles sighs in defeat. “Yeah, that’s fair. C’mon, we’re going to McDonalds ’cause I’m broke.”

“Miles, we’re Spider-Man. Being broke is part of the job,” Peter says as he runs along the edge. “If you beat me, I’ll buy off the dollar menu.” 

“Wait! No come back! That’s just mean! I’ll web you to the nearest building, I swear!” Miles yells, rushing to follow his lead and get ahead.

Peter spins around, swinging backwards. “Oh, shut up. You did the same thing to me last night. I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t catch on in time!” Miles jeers, reaching the arch of his swing and backflipping before thwipping his next web.

“Is that an old joke or a stupid joke? What’s your aim here, kid?” Peter asks, dropping his swing down to run alongside a building. He pushes himself forward, putting another block between them.

“Well, if the shoe fits!”

Peter thwips a web at the golden arches and lands onto the sign. He drops into the alley, waiting for Miles to catch up. 

Only for Miles to web straight into McDonalds, shouting out behind him, “ha! Got here first!”

“No fair! We never go straight into places,” Peter huffs as he walks into the restaurant. 

“We gotta break the mold Spidey One! Do what the cool people do, set new trends. It would be what Thor wanted,” Miles explains, digging twenty bucks out of his suit pocket.

Peter crosses his arms, ignoring the gasps and “subtle” pictures being taken of him. “I really need to design better pockets for this suit. I put a twenty dollar bill in here and you’ll see everything.” 

“That’s why you need a hip and cool youngin’ like me around. I’ve got all the good ideas, and you know it,” Miles jokes, rubbing at his chin as he decides what he wants.

“Who under sixty-five says ‘youngin’?” Peter asks himself, as a kid tugs on his leg. 

“Mr. Spider-Man, can I get a picture with you guys?” a young boy, no older than six, asks, showing off his missing front teeth in a big toothy grin. Can a grin be toothy if most of the teeth are gone? 

“You sure you want a picture with that guy,” Miles jokes, jabbing a thumb in Peter’s direction. “He’s so old you can already see the wrinkles through his suit.”

Peter shoves Miles as he kneels down to the kid’s height, ignoring Miles’ shout of ‘hey!’. “Sure thing, buddy. What’s your name?”

“Timmy,” the boy says quietly. He holds up his camera like a prize. “Can I get a picture with both of you?”

“Course, Timmy,” Peter says. He reaches behind him and tugs Miles down to the floor. “Let me take the picture so we can get a good selfie, get _ all of us _ in. Yeah?”

Timmy nods, handing over the phone.

Miles leans a hand over Peter’s shoulder and holds out a peace sign with the other. 

Peter snaps the picture, holding Timmy close. He hands it back to Timmy, showing a picture of Peter, Timmy, and… the McDonald’s counter. 

The two look at Miles. He shrugs sheepishly, coming back into view. “I got stage fright?”

“Stage fright? With a selfie?” Peter asks. 

“I’ve seen your school pictures man, it’s enough to scar a person for life,” Miles grumbles lightly.

Peter shakes his head. “Can we not do this in front of the kid?” He motions to a giggling Timmy, who’s head bounces between the two of them with wide eyes. 

“Whoops, sorry, take two?” Miles asks, getting back into his pose.

They take the selfie and Timmy takes the phone and runs back to his parents. 

Peter stands up and turns to the counter. “Now what do I want?” 

“Don’t hog the line like a middle aged woman at a Starbucks counter,” Miles jokes. “Can I please get two cheeseburger meals?”

“And can I get a Big Mac, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, and a large fry?” Peter asks.

“Are you trying to make me go broke?”

“Is that all?” The tired, surprisingly not star-struck employee, asks.

Peter pulls a crisp dollar bill out of his suit, tucked into his neck. “Here,” he says as he hands Miles the bill.

“Next thing you know you’ll be pullin’ rabbits out of there,” Miles comments as he gives the cash over.

“Do you want my help or are you just going to make fun of my pocket-less, but sexy suit?” Peter asks. 

Miles buries his head in his hands. “Please never say sexy again. I already see all the fanart of us together and this is just mean.”

“How do you know we’re not in a fanfiction right now?” Peter steps to the side, his cup in his hand. 

Miles reaches across and pinches Peter, “Does that feel like fanfiction to you?”

“I mean, are you into that sort of thing? Cause then yeah, it might.” Peter walks over to the drink machines and pours a mixture of different sodas into his large cup. 

Miles grabs their food and hurries to fill his drink, making gagging noises the whole time before he can escape to the McRoof.

Peter jumps onto the roof and snatches one of the bags. “Does this one have my fries? Gotta eat those first before they get all droopy and cold.” 

Miles grabs his cheeseburgers out and hands over the food. “Go right ahead man, I’m pretty sure they’re stuffed at the bottom.”

“Bag fries are the best,” Peter says as he fishes out the majority of them. 

Miles digs in, humming his agreement through a mouthful of food.

Peter shoves a handful of fries into his mouth and lays back on the roof, resting on his elbow. “Hey, you know how we were talking about my strings the other day? How I only really feel ours?” 

“Yeah man? Why, you get a red one on your ring finger or somethin’?”

“Nah,” Peter says through his mouthful of Big Mac. “My chest string got all warm the other day?” 

“Warm? You got a fever?” Miles joked. Miles peered over at where said string would be. “Now that’s just weird.”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know. I was dealing with Flash and next thing I know, I’m getting this warm feeling on my chest. I got all itchy and uncomfortable. It was really weird.” 

Miles swallows his next mouthful before pointing at Peter and saying, “If Flash is your soulmate or something, we ain’t friends anymore.”

“No,” Peter says, gagging. “No, I’ve seen Flash without his shirt. A) It was traumatic, but B) there’s no string on his chest. He’s got one on his hip but not his chest. We’re in the clear.” 

Miles breathes a sigh of relief. “Phew! You had me worried for a second there. You got any idea why it acted up like that?”

Peter shakes his head and takes another bite of his Big Mac. “Not a clue,” he says. “The only other time it happens is when I’m in my English class, but even that’s random. Plus, the air conditioning is broken and I wear my suit under my clothes so it’s just hot in there in general.”

Miles shrugs. “Makes sense. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Peter takes a swig of his soda concoction and sighs. “How are your strings?” 

“As normal as ever.” Miles fiddles with the one connecting them, the yellow brightening up and revealing the path between the two of them. 

Peter holds up his hand and inspects it, moving the string this way or that to see how the trail changes in the light. “Get any new ones lately?”

“I haven’t looked in awhile,” Miles admits. “Everything’s been so crazy that I didn’t even think about them. Except ours, cause like you pointed out, it’s always… there.”

“Think that’s what happens when you have a string on your hand instead of literally anywhere else.” Peter moves onto his next burger. 

Miles moved on to his own fries. “Yeah, true. I almost wouldn’t mind all of mine being on my hands. Remind me of everyone I care about every day, y’know?”

“You’ve got two on your hands right?”

Miles’ eyes drifted down to his hands. “Uh, yeah. My Uncle’s is on my pinkie.”

Peter nods. “I’ve got Uncle Ben’s on my forearm,” he reminds Miles. 

Miles’ lips quirk in a small smile. “Wish I could have met him. Sounded like a great guy.”

“He was,” Peter sighs. “He was the best.”

Miles downed the last of his fries and drink. “Anyway, you wanna go do something productive?”

“Please?” 

* * *

Peter flips through his notebook, pencil tucked behind his ear, until he finds his notes. Mr. Carmichael is prattling on about where they left off in the novel, pacing in the front of the classroom as he says page number after page number for the different editions. Peter plucks the pencil from behind his ear and opens up the novel, turning to act four like Mr. Carmichael so proudly reminds him. 

“Can anyone remind us what’s going on in our play?” Mr. Carmichael asks as he stops at the podium. “Anyone?”

Peter scratches at the string wrapped around his palm with the tip of his pencil. He just knows he’ll get called on. You fall asleep three times in class and you’re all of a sudden the favorite to get picked on. It’s just not fair.

He’s a good student, an A student, and he only ever lets himself sleep when there’s nothing to do or he’s ahead. It’s not his fault that the teachers don’t see that. 

Mr. Carmichael sighs. “I’d call on Mr. Storm, but, yet again, he’s not here. Can anyone tell me if there’s some sort of motorcross event he’s at? You kids seem to know more than I do about him.” 

“He hasn’t posted anything on Twitter,” one girl, June, says from the back row. 

“Well then,” Mr. Carmichael says, “that means we’ll have to turn to Mr. Parker.”

And there it is. 

Peter sighs as he looks up at the old man. “Yes?”

“Remind the class what we’ve been reading. What happened in act three, scene four?” Mr. Carmichael asks. 

He sits up, pushing his shoulders back. “Okay,” Peter sighs, “um, the Queen and Polonius were conspiring in her room, waiting for Hamlet. So Polonius hides behind the curtain and then Hamlet comes in and he’s really upset, for obvious reasons. He goes over to his mom and they start arguing, she says he offended Claudius while he accuses her of offending his actual father, the King. Then Hamlet gets all mad and kills Polonius through the curtains thinking its Claudius-” Peter gasps, clutching at his chest. 

Out of nowhere, the red soulmate string between his pecs begins to burn. It’s hot, itchy, spreading through his chest like a flame licking at his skin. 

“Mr. Parker? Are you okay?” Mr. Carmichael asks, taking a step forward. 

Peter nods, eyes screwed shut as his fingers dig into his chest. “Yeah,” he squeaks. 

Mr. Carmichael shakes his head. “No, head to the nurse. Now.” 

* * *

The teachers monotone voice whined in Miles’ ear. Something about history and the first World War. He would just ask Ganke for notes later, because he couldn’t focus at all.

Maybe he was just restless, maybe it was pure paranoia, but it felt like his spider-sense would start blooming at any second.

He digs the heel of his hands into his eyes, trying to elevate the pressure building there. He was fine. It was all fine. He would just burn this energy off tonight on patrol.

He feels a pinching pain in his pinkie. He rubs at it absently. It keeps on pinching.

Why was his string acting up like this-

Oh. Why was it changing colours?!

Right before his eyes, ever so slowly, his Uncle’s string lost its black colour. It was like it was flaking away. It made no sense! This shouldn’t be happening! Everyone knew that the colours paused when someone died, forever showing how that relationship had been.

What was happening?!

The kid next to him, his name always escaped him, nudges his elbow. “Hey, do you know who that assassinated guys name was?”

Miles shrugs, “Sorry, wasn’t paying attention.”

“Thanks anyway,” the kid says.

* * *

Peter rubs at his face as he tries to focus on his math, but the letters and numbers are blurring together. Granted, he’s been sitting here since the nurse sent him home. If he can get through this last practice test, then he can take a quick nap before he needs to meet Miles. 

But his chest…

Every time he thinks it’s stopped, it comes back hotter than ever. It’s brought him to his knees more than once in the few short hours since Mr. Carmichael’s class. 

He claws at his chest, nails catching the string and amplifying the pain. His free hand hits the desk, rattling his textbooks. 

Oh god, he needs help… He needs serious help. 

* * *

Miles stared down at the picture of Uncle Aaron for the second time in as many days. And then down at the string. And then at his Uncle.

This was crazy, this made no sense, he was dead!

Miles had killed him. He had been there, screaming for help while he tried to drag him to the hospital. He had been there to tell the nurses, and then his parents, that the cooktop had exploded. It was the best lie he had, and it was the one that stuck viciously. He had been there when his heart finally couldn’t take the strain and stopped.

He was there when Mum and Dad saw him burned from head to toe.

There was no way he was alive, that made no sense!

Miles hesitated for a moment, before giving into temptation and grabbed a hold of the string. The green thread was back again, though it looked very frayed with bits going everywhere. Tangled around the whole of the string was red, thick and dark in colour. The black still held on, but it was no longer the overwhelming colour it had been.

And it went out the window, following a trail once again.

Miles grabs his phone out, opening instagram and goes into the DM’s. He was about to type in a message to Peter - but stopped. He had had his chance to tell him at school, why should he bother him now?

What could he even say? He didn't know what this meant. It was his problem, not Peter’s. It would be fine.

Homework was more important, he had to focus.

* * *

Miles tossed endlessly during the night. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real! He was just wishing for something that was already gone.

He was freaking out, maybe Green Goblin had given him something during the fight. Something was messing with his vision. It would be gone by tomorrow, and then his patience would have served him well.

* * *

The window to Peter’s bedroom is supposed to be unlocked. It’s always unlocked. Why would he lock it when the window is a prime Spidey entrance? 

Peter sighs, forehead thumping against the window pane. Aunt May must have locked it. God, he should have installed that lock and key system like he planned to last weekend. 

Dammit. He’s going to have to break it open. 

Peter grabs at the bottom of the window and pulls as hard as he can. It shakes, creaking with the effort. It doesn’t open. He adjusts his footing and pulls again as his chest starts to burn. 

He’s sort of gotten used to it, the fire beneath his string. Peter’s not entirely sure what this means or what’s going on, but he knows it’s not good. Nothing good ever happens when it comes to Peter. Except Miles, that was a pretty sweet deal. 

The wood beneath the window snaps in half. Peter’s shoulders sag with relief as he slides the window open and finally slinks inside. 

Peter’s limbs feel heavy, aching from practicing with Miles and lack of sleep. All he wants to do is climb into bed and sleep for a hundred years. That’ll never happen; he’s Spider-Man, he’s lucky if he gets three consecutive hours. 

He pulls off his mask and steps out of his suit, hopping all around his room. Peter falls back onto the bed, on leg still encased in the Spider-Man suit as he tries to tug it off with his toes. 

Peter doesn’t remember what happens next. All he knows is he put his arms around his pillow and hugged it close, then he was out. 

That is until the burning on his chest woke him up not even an hour later. He rolls over onto his back, clutching at his chest. A whine, shrill and short, spills out of Peter’s throat as he rolls around the mattress. (He’ll never admit it, though. Never admit that he totally sounded like a baby. Never. Miles can _ never _ find out.) 

Peter looks down at the string, the vibrant red threads with the sliver of gold and blue sharp against his pale skin in the dark room. He picks it up, pulling it taut away from the skin, but not enough to cause more pain. 

But it’s hot, hot to the touch. The longer he holds it, the more it burns, blistering his skin with every passing second. 

He hisses, letting it fall back down. 

Peter gnaws at his lip, trying to get a good look at his chest with just the moon and street lights from his window. Except, he doesn’t need much light. No, the string itself seems to be producing a light of its own, glowing a soft orange like the embers of a fire. 

His chest grows hotter, the skin nearly boiling at just the sight of things. Oh god, this hurts. It hurts so bad. 

He’s crying; big, fat, alligator tears that spill from his tired eyes over his cheek, and sizzling against his chest. Your chest shouldn’t sizzle. That’s not natural, even for teenage boys who were bitten by

radioactive, genetically engineered spiders.

You know what really shouldn’t happen? What’s really unnatural?

Your soulmate string bursting into flames like it’s no big deal. 

Peter squeals as the heat comes to a peak, a small candle-like flame sparking at the tip of his string and growing until the whole thing is alight with fire. And yet, the pain he felt isn’t the same? 

Actual flames kiss his skin every few seconds, smoke rolling up towards his ceiling, and yet, Peter just feels hot. It’s almost like a certain circumference around the string is fireproof? 

The flame is quick to grow bigger, threatening to catch on his sheets or bedspread. 

He squeals as he dives for the stale, half-empty water bottle by his bed. Peter yanks off the cap, pours a decent amount onto his chest, and falls back into his soaked sheets as the smoke becomes unbearable. 

The good news? The string isn’t on fire anymore. 

The bad news? Peter’s too tired to change his sheets. 

Peter whines again as he pulls the blanket over his shoulders and prays to Thor, or whatever God is listening, that he doesn’t burst into flames in his sleep. 

He’ll deal with this in the morning.

* * *

The string was still alight with colour the next morning.

Miles could only stare at it. This was never supposed to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out onesp1cyboi's art on their tumblr.
> 
> View the McDonald's Selfie in all it's glory here: https://onesp1cyboi.tumblr.com/post/187519165014/art-i-did-for-oh-stars-and-sparkstar-trash-s


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles struggles to come to terms with his uncle's string as Peter tries to pretend his soulmate string wasn't on fire.

**Miles:** Hey Pete, can’t go out tonight, rain check?

**Peter:** Uh, yeah. You okay?

**Miles:** Fine, just family stuff

**Peter:** That’s cool, hope things are good. I can’t go tonight either

**Miles:** Oh okay. That works out

**Peter:** Guess it does… You sure everythings okay?

**Miles:** All good, I’ll tell you about it later

**Peter:** Yeah, I’ve got a lot to fill you in on too. Good luck with whatever?

**Miles:** You too

* * *

The string went out the window and stretched off into the distance. A colourful path that made something in Miles’ stomach drop.

Uncle Aaron was somehow, miraculously, alive.

Don’t ask him how, but he would find out. This was one of the first times Miles had ever put a raincheck on hanging out with Peter. It was always fun being with him, but something about dragging him into it felt…

Wrong.

Peter knew about Uncle Aaron, knew he had died, but he could never know about the venom strike misfire. He didn’t want to see the disgust on Peter's face, the disappointment as he realised that Miles was such a mess up.

Which was exactly why he was climbing out the window, one hand with a hold on the string to keep it alight and the other thwipping his first web onto the building opposite.

Miles needs to know that he isn’t just seeing things. He needs to know if Uncle Aaron is still out there.

The free fall was normally exhilarating and fun, but with his heart in his throat, Miles was silent as he followed the light. It sent him through Brooklyn, briefly into Queens and up through Manhattan until Miles was forced to stop because of the river. He landed with a small thump just on the edge of the water.

The string still stretched out endlessly into the distance.

If Uncle Aaron was alive, he wasn’t in New York. This wasn’t a weekend job, if Miles wanted to know what had happened. No, finding Uncle Aaron could take days, maybe even a week. Maybe a month. It was impossible to tell.

His phone chimed with a new message. He dug it out of his pocket.

**Mum:** Dinner’s in 10 minutes

Miles put it back in his pocket and sighed. Not now. If he ran away on a wild goose chase now, he wouldn’t get to say goodbye to anyone.

And he had to think about it. Was it worth it? Did he really want to see if Uncle Aaron was alive?

He didn’t know.

* * *

Peter tightens the canister of web fluid on his wrist. He drops his arm into his lap and looks over the city. He had the day to himself, a free day of just Spider-Man numero uno. He was supposed to meet up with Miles and if he did, maybe that would have distracted him from whatever was going on with his string. But this is good, better even. He hasn’t had much time to just think, between his duties as Spider-Man, spending quality time with Aunt May or Ned, school, training for the Avengers… Peter needs a day to be just himself. 

Aunt May let him stay home from school, said she had heard him crying last night and thought he might have a fever. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her his soulmate string literally burst into flames while he was asleep. 

His soulmate string was on _ fire _ . He could have _ died _. It wouldn’t have been the first time he was almost burned alive, but that doesn’t matter. What is he supposed to do if it happens again? Is it permanent or a freak accident?

What does this mean about his soulmate? Did it happen to them? Oh god, did they die? Is this what happens when your soulmate dies in a fire? Your string burns with theirs? Does this mean they felt it when he burned his suit after the Vulture?

Peter flicks his wrist and jumps off the ledge of his building’s rooftop, swinging over the street. He needs to clear his head. He needs to stop being Peter Parker and fall into Spider-Man mode.

The streets are quiet, the midday heat too much for anyone to bear on a Tuesday. It’s nice, though. He doesn’t get to just swing through the city without a care in the world anymore, too busy saving people or teaching Miles (not that he really needed it).

He does a lap, swinging around a few blocks before he decides to rest on the tallest building he could find in his neighborhood. 

This is nice. 

There are no baddies to fight, no villains trying to destroy the city King Kong style, an excused day off school, and the best view in New York. It’s just Peter and his city, breathing in time with each other. 

Maybe he had just dreamed the whole fire thing up in the first place? Soulmate strings don’t just burst into flames. They just lay there all boring and shit. It’s literally just a tether to your soulmate, it has no powers. 

Peter lifts his mask up over his nose and takes a deep breath. This is really nice. He should have a picnic up here one day. Just him and the city. Yeah, that sounds- 

The hair on the back of his neck stands, eyes wide, and back straight; his spidey-sense is tingling. 

Peter covers his head and ducks just as something hot flies over his head. He peeks out between his fingers to see a ball of fire speeding through the sky. “That can’t be good,” he says as he swings after it, tugging his mask back down with the drop. He follows it, making short swings and jumps to keep up.

Whatever it is, it’s hot; waves and waves of heat assault his face as he soars through the air. It turns, spiraling and leaving behind a trail of flames. Holy sh- That’s a man. That is a man on _ fire _ . And _ flying _. 

“Hey!” Peter calls as he jumps over a roof. “Slow down! I just want to talk.”

Jesus Christ, this guy could single-handedly cause a heat wave through the state of New York. 

LavaBoy keeps going, twisting and turning until he reaches the Ed Koch bridge. He goes around it, zooming over the water like a bird. Maybe he is a bird? Maybe he’s like a phoenix? Maybe he’s not even real and this is all a figment of Peter’s imagination, fueled by his fiery nightmare.

Dammit. He can’t get a good swing to keep up with him, he’s going to have to go under the bridge. 

“I’ll just meet you on the other side,” Peter gasps as he thwips a web toward the base of the bridge. 

FireBoy looks back at him as he does a flip in the air. 

Peter gets to the base of the tower and sticks to the concrete. He waves him off. “You know what,” he calls, “I’ll catch up with you later.” 

The sun hits his mask, his sweat making the mask sticking to his skin. He lifts his mask up to his nose and takes a deep breathe - in, out, in, out - before he slips it back down. His skin is getting hotter, which shouldn’t be possible when he’s literally hiding under a bridge. Peter closes his eyes, rests his head against the column, and listens to the chaos of the streets, the crashing of the waves, and the whistle of the wind. 

Peter opens his eyes to find the Fire Dude floating in front of his face, flames dangerously close to his nose. He squeaks and scrambles up the wall. “Hi, you are very hot.” 

The guy leans back and crosses his arms. “Why thank you. I’d say the same to you, but I’m not into arachnids. Nice butt, though.” 

“Thanks?” Peter scratches at his neck. “So, are you a villain or…?”

Flame guy tilts his head. “Would a villain actually answer that? I’m pretty sure villains think they’re the good guys and that we’re the bad guys.”

Peter shrugs. “I mean, I usually don’t have to ask. They just start terrorizing the city.” 

“That’s fair. Name is…Candle Man, no. Um, The Smoke Detector.” He shakes his head, the flames swirling with his movements. “The Firefighter?”

“You’re new to this hero thing, aren’t you?” Peter asks, crossing his own arms. 

He shrugs. “Maybe. What about the Human Oven? No, that’s silly.” Fire Dude flexes his arms. “I’m the Lava Lamp!” 

“Too cringe-worthy.”

FireBoy nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Human Torch? That’s the one. I’m the Human Torch,” he says, hands on his hips. 

Peter looks around. “Is that your final choice?” 

Torch circles the column. “I think it fits quite well.” 

“If you say so.” Peter holds out a hand. “I’m Spider-Man.” 

Torch looks down at his own fiery hand and waves instead. “I may be new to the power thing, but not to New York. Everyone knows about the Spider-Men.” He forms a ball of fire in his hands and bounces it between his fingertips. “I have to get back to my evil la- I mean, house. See you around, spidey?” 

“Yeah, you will.” Peter points up at him. “I’ll be checking up on you, Torch.”

The Human Torch salutes him. “I sure hope so.” 

* * *

**Peter:** I know we said we’d meet up tonight, but I’m swamped. Tomorrow?   


**Miles:** Yeah I’ve got a lot going on too. Library?

**Peter:** Gotta do something after school, library will be closed by then. McD?

**Miles:** :/ I was going to do something at night.

**Peter:** Pikachu, I don’t think we’re going to be able to hang out again until Saturday at this rate. Are you still patrolling when you can?

**Miles:** Course I am, but stuff has got me swamped. You know how it is

**Peter:** big mood

**Peter:** I’ll block out time to meet up mid patrol on Saturday night. Where do you want to meet? 

**Miles:** Not sure, maybe Empire State? That could be our warmup

**Peter:** Works for me. I take the best naps up there

**Miles:** Sometimes I swear you’re more cat than spider

**Peter:** I prefer sloth, thank you

* * *

The messages between Peter and him stared accusingly at Miles. Why hadn’t he told Peter? It was the perfect opportunity and Peter could help him. All he had to say was “My Uncle’s string has come back to life.”

He went to type it in, but stopped.

He couldn’t.

Peter was already busy. He shouldn’t bother him. How could he even explain this in the first place? Explain how it was all Miles' fault that he died? Peter would never trust him to control his powers ever again and then there’d be no more Spider-Man for Miles.

He scrubbed at his eyes, getting rid of the tears obscuring his vision.

He couldn’t tell his parents either. If Uncle Aaron came home and told them how 

Miles killed him, well, they’d never look at him the same, maybe they would even hate him. Not to mention Uncle Aaron could only explain how he had died if he revealed Miles’s secret identity. It would all end badly, he just knew it.

He had to deal with this on his own. However long it would take, he will follow the string and find his uncle. Miles had to know why he was alive again. They were still family, even after everything.

Miles took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do now. A little lying would be worth it in the end. He’ll be packed up and on a “field trip” in just a day or two, as far as his parents would know.

It’ll work out. It’ll be fine.

He turned his phone back on, only to be met with the messages between Peter and himself again.

Saturday he can say goodbye. Even if Peter won’t realise it’s goodbye until he’s gone.

* * *

Peter rests his forehead against the cool locker. He spent all night looking for that Torch guy. Logically, Peter knows he was joking about the whole villain thing, but he just needs to be sure. He never found him, but he did get some solo-patrolling in, which was nice. Just like he used to do before Tony Stark asked him to join the Avengers reserves, before Miles got his powers, before Aunt May knew… 

“You okay, Peter?” Ned asks, closing his own locker. 

Peter turns and clutches his textbooks to his chest. “Tired. Was out too late again.” 

Ned raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were sick?”

“I was, in a way, but that doesn’t stop you-know-who from doing his job.” 

“How does Voldemort get sick? He’s a wizard, can’t he just magic away his cold?” Ned leans against the lockers. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Wizards don’t get colds. They get magic sicknesses that have to be cured by healers. JK Rowling confirmed.” 

Ned shrugs. “How come you didn’t come to school yesterday then?” 

“You’ll never believe what happened,” Peter whispers. He leans in. “My soulmate string burst into flames.”

Ned’s books clash to the floor. “It what?” 

Peter nods, matching Ned’s wide-eyed expression. “My chest was really hot randomly all day and then when I was sleeping it burst into flames. It was crazy! I don’t know what happened.”

“Has it happened again?” They bend down, picking up Ned’s discarded textbooks. 

“No, but it’s weird. Right?” Peter’s brow furrows as they kneel in front of the lockers. 

“Not any weirder than being half-spider,” Ned says. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, but being half-spider isn’t going to burn down my block.”

“But it will destroy Manhattan,” Ned says. 

“True.” 

Ned claps Peter on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.” 

* * *

Miles hoisted himself up the last few feet, already finding Peter stretched out on the roof like a cat lapping up the sun. He had half a mind to throw a pebble at him, so he did.

Peter flails, one hand sticking to the shiny roof and the other swatting at the air. “What was that?” he screeched. 

Miles snorted, “You’re spider-sense is hopeless dude.”

“It detects danger, not stupidity.” 

“You never know, a pebble could land in your mouth and choke you. I’m just saying, people die in really dumb ways,” he pointed out, sitting down on a nearby air vent.

Peter shook his head. “Trust me, I’ve seen _ 1,000 Ways to Die _.”

“Are you done being a red splat on this nice ol’ building?” Miles asked.

Peter crouched against the roof. “Yeah, I think I am.” He took off his mask and ran a hand through his hair, before he let it fall, resting against his knee. He looked up at Miles with a small smile. “It’s only been a few days, but so much has happened that I didn’t realize how much I missed you, Pikachu.” 

“Don’t get sappy with me Blue, my teenage soul can’t handle it!” Miles declared dramatically, but ducked his head anyway. “Yeah, it’s fun hanging out with you.”

Peter tugged his mask back on. “What’s been going on with you?”

Miles shrugged, stepping over to the edge. “Stuff.”

“Seriously? That’s all you plan on giving me?”

Miles fiddled absently with pinkie. “Yep. I’ll tell you after it’s all over. Maybe it’ll be a fun story to tell?” He did his best to keep the doubt out of his voice, but it wasn’t very successful.

Peter nodded and shot a web at nothing. “I look forward to hearing it.” 

“Race you to the end of the street?” he challenged.

“I’m not really feeling it, Miles.” 

Miles paused, squinting at Peter, “You, daredevil extraordinaire, don’t want to race? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” Peter said.

“...What do you want to do instead?” Miles asked, stepping off the ledge and sitting back down on the air vent.

“Can’t we just take a breather?” 

Miles scuffed the ground, “Yeah, sure. Uh, any homework you want to do?”

Peter tilted his head. “You really think I brought my bookbag on patrol on a Saturday?”

“Well, no, but I also expected us to both punch a guy in the face.”

“Good point.” Peter stretches his arms. “I’m not going to lie, I’m exhausted, dude.”

“Same. Who knew that trying to balance a superhero life and a school one would be hard? Oh wait, like every comic book ever.” It was like a lightbulb went off over Miles’s head. “Do you want to go grab a coffee or something?”

Peter’s head shot up. “Yes, yes I do.”

Miles grinned, “See you there.” He backflipped off the side of the building, web flying out and catching him before he hit the ground. He was off into the distance in what seemed like the blink of an eye. With his energy, and Peter’s lack of it, Miles was at the coffee shop first.

“You kids,” Peter says as he lands on the light post in front of Starbucks, “always rushing about like you have some place better to be.” 

“As much as swinging around is fun, it does put a strain on the arms,” Miles said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ll pay. Get whatever you want.”

The eyes on Peter’s mask squinted. “You’re paying? At Starbucks? I thought you only paid for McDonald’s on leap years?” 

Miles shifted nervously, “My special treat from me to your wallet.”

Peter drops down to the sidewalk. “Okay. I’ll let this slide, but I’m watching you.” 

Miles was quick to walk into the shop, folding his arms and stepping into line. He double checked that he still had his money under his glove - he did. When they got to the front of the line, Miles got a vanilla crème and Peter a cinnamon dolce latte. Unfortunately there weren’t any seats in Starbucks, so they went up to the roof.

“I prefer this view,” Peter whispers. “It’s quieter up here.”

“Agreed. Uh, anyway, I kinda have something to tell you,” Miles spit out before he could hesitate too long.

Peter takes off his mask and sips his latte. “You got this coffee. I guess you’ve earned some good ol’ fashioned spider-wisdom.” 

Miles couldn’t help his chuckle, “Sure, spider-wisdom, as if we’ve ever been wise.”

“Hey,” Peter warns. “I’m an old soul.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you say.” Miles takes a deep breath. “I’m going to be gone for a couple of days next week.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Really? Why’s that?” He sips his drink again and looks ahead. 

“Well, I’ve got something weird going on with a string. I, uh, I’m going to go figure it out. So I’ll probably be gone a couple of days.”

Peter nods, but his eyes are glazed over. He’s squinting at something in the distance, eyes zeroing in on something orange on a roof blocks away. 

“It’s my Uncle’s. It’s come back to life. Just don’t tell my parents, my Dad hasn’t noticed his string changing yet and if I figure out what’s going on that’ll save us some, uh, distress.” Miles takes a sip of his drink. “So yeah, that’s where I’ll be.”

“That’s cool. Gotta do what you gotta do. Just don’t forget your homework.” Peter leans forward, feet sticking to the wall. He sips at his drink and sighs, just a hair too dreamily. 

Miles glances across at him, frown on his face. He tries to see what Peter is looking at, but comes up with a blank. “And I killed a man yesterday,” Miles says casually.

“Proud of you, kid.” 

Miles fiddles with a frayed string on his costume. He feels cold, like someone has dunked a bucket of ice water on him. Peter wasn’t listening. Well, it was good to know he wouldn’t be missed.

Peter yawns and downs his latte. “Just be careful.”

“Yeah, will do,” Miles says quietly.

Peter stands and stretches. “Hey, this was a great talk and all, but can we catch up later? I need to go check on something.” 

Miles waves him off. “Sure. See you later,” he says quietly.

Peter tugs his mask back on and thwips a web onto the neighboring building, swinging away.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's chest burns in more ways than one and Miles plans for a hero's journey.

“Peter,” Mrs. Wormsloe says. “When was the French Revolution?” 

Peter looks up from his web fluid notes, blinking hard as his eyes (albeit better than average) adjust to the projector screen. “Um,” he says. “1788?” 

“No, but close. 1789.” Mrs. Wormsloe clicks over to the next screen. “You would know that if you were paying attention.” 

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles, tucking his head into his notes. 

It was hard to stay focused when everything in him wanted to be somewhere else. He wanted to swing through Queens or go to the Avengers Compound and practice with whoever is there. He wanted to tweak the formula for his taser web fluid or design a new suit. He wanted to go find Miles or that new guy, Torch or something. Instead, he’s stuck here in this wretched classroom that smells like the inside of the Hulk’s pants. 

Peter flips to a new page in his notebook and copies down the information on the slide. 

At the base of his sternum, he can feel the string tickling his skin beneath his loose-fitting shirt. It’s been harder to ignore it after it burst into flames. He’s been paying more attention to it anyway, but now that he can feel the string on his skin has him on edge at all times. 

He’s trying his best to stay awake, to keep his hand moving and paying attention to Mrs. Wormsloe’s lecture. 

“The French Revolution sparked a change in history that we still see today,” Mrs. Wormsloe says. “It’s one of the most important events in history. It shaped how we see politics, culture, society, religion, and ideas in the modern world, or at least started the trajectory that we were on. In fact, without the French Revolution, American politics could be very different-”

A slow burn bubbled at his chest, a soft heat that Peter couldn’t discern whether it was in his head or not. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was; he’d been having trouble all week with imaginary false alarms. 

“Ned, did you have a question?” Mrs. Wormsloe asks. 

Ned glances up and shakes his head. He looks to Peter, brow furrowed. Ned waits until she starts talking again before he leans over. “Dude, are you okay?”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. 

“Is it the string?” Ned whispers. 

“Ned,” Mrs. Wormsloe says, “if you have something to say, you can say it to the class.” 

Ned lowers his head and scribbles on his notebook. “Sorry.”

Peter flips to another page and lets his hand take over, scribbling down the notes without care. 

The burning rises, creeping up his throat and swelling in his chest. It’s harder to breathe, the heat choking him from the inside out. 

He can’t sit here. He needs out. He needs something cool. He needs-

Peter scrambles out of his seat and rushes out the door, slamming it behind him. He runs down the hall, clutching at his chest as his shoes squeak against the tiles. 

He rounds the corner, stumbling his way when- BAM! 

Peter falls backward, back hitting the floor with a thud. He blinks hard, looking up to see none other than Johnny Storm sprawled out in front of him. 

“Sorry,” Peter gasps, rubbing at his head. “I didn’t see-”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Johnny says. His face twists in discomfort as he stands up, cracking his back. “You alright?” He offers Peter a hand. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”

Peter nods, taking it. Johnny’s warm, almost too warm to touch. He helps Peter to his feet. 

“What’s the rush?” Johnny asks. 

“My chest,” he says. “It’s been killing me all week.”

Johnny nods, grimacing. “Yeah, I’ve been there. I broke a rib in a dirt bike accident a few years back and it took forever to heal.”

Peter shakes his head. “I don’t think this is a broken rib.” 

Johnny shrugs. “Either way, good luck with it.” He steps around Peter. “Take it easy, Peter. You need your rest.” 

* * *

Miles snuck into his Dad’s office. He had said goodbye to Peter, he had a general direction of where Uncle Aaron was, and now he just had to organise a way to run away for like a week without raising suspicions. Ha, so easy, right?

Well, at the very least, the school part would be. It wasn't like they could heavily question a kid who’s just ‘oh so sick.’

The screen flickered on, and with a few short clicks Miles was on the school website logged in as his Dad. Then, it was only several more clicks, confirming he was not in fact a robot and it was done. He had a week and two days to find Uncle Aaron, or get in huge trouble if he didn't come home.

Yeah, not like anything could go wrong at all.

And now it was time to face the beast, convincing his parents to let him go on this totally not fake school trip.

* * *

Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he leans against his locker. Miles was supposed to meet him twenty minutes ago; they always met at Peter’s locker and walked to the library on Tuesday afternoons. It’s been their thing. But now he’s not here. 

He has half a mind to just call him, figure out where he is and try and catch up to him. The other half reminds him that Miles probably has a good reason for ditching him. Doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Peter sighs and pushes himself off the metal doors. He might as well head to the library to study for midterms next week. 

He should have seen if Ned was free, or MJ, or literally any other person Peter knows. Not that he knows hundreds of people, but his little group of friends works… when he’s not ditching them for Miles. 

This is what makes being Spider-Man suck. Sure, Ned and MJ know about his secret identity and all that, but they don’t get to _ experience _ it like Miles does. Miles can hang out with him twenty-four/seven if he wanted to because not only do they go to school together, but Miles is also - wait for it - _ Spider-Man _! Literally, none of his other friends can do the things he and Miles do. 

Peter pushes the double doors open and jogs down the front steps. 

He feels shitty leaving Miles like this, but at the same time, Miles is the one who didn’t show up. It’s not like Peter didn’t wait or stood him up. Yeah, Miles doesn’t deserve to-

No, that’s not right. Miles is a good friend. They’re just… having some sort of disconnect. 

Peter shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. He tucks his head down and walks around the block to the library. He really just needs to focus on school. There’s nothing he can do about his chest bursting into flames randomly (regularly now really, which is absolutely terrifying) and Miles is doing his own thing, so Peter will do his own thing. 

“Well if it isn’t the kid with the chest thing,” a voice calls.

Peter looks up to see Johnny Storm leaning against the library, a hand-rolled cigarette between his lips and his bag at his feet. “Johnny, hi,” Peter says. 

Johnny plucks the cigarette from his lips and blows a ring of smoke in the air between them. “What brings you to the library?”

Peter shrugs, brow furrowed. “Books?” He takes in a deep breath, smelling the smoke but something’s different. There’s no nicotine in the air, just the smell of burning paper. Johnny’s not smoking a cigarette, he’s just smoking… paper?

“Right,” Johnny chuckles. He runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips together. “Hey, you know how we’re in Carmichael’s class together?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “Why?”

  
Johnny twirls his cigarette in his hand. “I kind of need your help.” He sighs and grabs his bag. “You see, I’m having some trouble following along with the reading. Some stuff happened-”

“Is it related to our collision yesterday?” 

“Maybe,” Johnny says, eyes bright with mirth. “How’s your chest?” 

Peter shrugs. “Okay for now.”

Johnny nods. “Good. Anyway, I’m dealing with some stuff and I’m behind now-”

“Are you asking me to help you study for the midterm?” Peter asks, crossing his arms. 

Johnny blinks, slow and deliberate. “Are you going to interrupt everything I say?” 

“No, not everything. Just the boring stuff.” Peter adjusts his bag. “C’mon. I’ll give you the Parker Notes.” 

Johnny puts out his “cigarette” and reaches over to pull the door open for Peter. “After you, Peter.” 

Peter blushes, tucks his head down, and pushes past Johnny. 

They sit down at a table in the corner of the library, Peter across from Johnny. “So do you even know what we just finished reading?” 

Johnny bites his lip. “Well, you see,” he starts. 

Peter rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “We read Hamlet, it’s a Shakespeare play. Have you ever seen _ the Lion King _?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Johnny says, leaning forward, arms resting on the table. 

“It’s loosely based on Hamlet, so you can use the characters of Lion King to help you remember what’s going on. Otherwise, you can speed read the play, but you’re a busy guy-”

“How do you know I’m busy?” Johnny asks. 

Peter pulls out his notebooks. “I follow you on Twitter and Instagram. You’re always in some race or doing a shoot or some tv show,” he says quietly.

Johnny snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s not happening anymore.”

“It’s not?”

Johnny gives him a small smile. “No, I have to quit. It’s too dangerous. For now, at least.” 

Peter’s brow furrows as he watches Johnny draw a small skateboard on the table. “What do you mean too dangerous? You’ve been doing these races for years, since we were in what? Sixth, seventh grade?” Peter hands him a piece of paper, sliding it under Johnny’s poised pen. 

“Thanks,” Johnny mumbles, ears turning red. “It’s just-”

“Just the accidents? Haven’t you broken half of your bones already?” Peter asks.

“You're interrupting again.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter says. “Is quitting-”

Johnny reaches up and runs a hand through his hair. “It was my choice. I decided to cut back for now. I’m just not in a good spot right now to handle all the fame and stuff. I’m not taking on any more responsibilities. I even posted on my Twitter, Mr. Follower, this morning.” 

Peter’s shoulders drop as he winces. “Right, sorry. Um, Hamlet?” He points to the book on the table. “So you have Hamlet and-” He stops himself and look at Johnny in those bright blue eyes. They’re brighter in person; the poster of him and his bike on his wall does nothing for their complexity. Peter follows the darker outer rim into the starbursts of navy blue into his pupil, surrounded by a light blue that made his eyes look like they’d been filled with water straight from the Bahamas. 

“You alright?” Johnny asks.

“Don’t make this decision lightly,” Peter says. “I may not be in your situation and it’s definitely not my place to tell you how to live your life, but don’t push away that side of your life so quickly.” He leans forward, getting closer to him. “You can’t think about your fans, not with something like this. And as much as I’d miss watching your races with my friend Miles, if it’s better for you to stop then do it. Just try and remember all the fun and good times you’ve had.” 

Johnny looks away, grinning. Peter tries to ignore how warm his eyes look. “Ugh, thanks Peter. I appreciate that.” 

Peter nods, stunted as he thumbs the pages of his book. “Anytime.” 

* * *

“Hey Dad, I forgot to tell you about this school trip coming up,” Miles said casually, leaning on the couch arm. He passed over an official looking paper. “I’ll be gone for like a week. We’re going to Massachusetts to check out Harvard for a scholarship program.”

The lie was so smooth it was like butter. Even he wouldn’t have known it was a lie if he wasn’t behind it. The official-looking paper was just icing on the cake.

Dad clapped me on the back, “Harvard, hey? Good job Buddy. Well, if it’s so soon you better get to packing your bag. Don’t want you being behind the others just because you have the memory of a goldfish.”

I smiled ruefully, “You have no idea.” I gave him a hug before scurrying back to my bedroom. “I’ll get straight to it!”

Step two: complete.

* * *

**Watch out Avengers; New Superhero Team Lands In New York!**

  


On Monday, October 2nd, the readers at Grand Central Library received an unBEElivable surprise visitor: a giant bee. In a BUZZare turn of events, the giant bee swarmed the library just after four o’clock. 

“It came out of nowhere,” Patty Melvin, senior librarian at Grand Central, said. “The kids had just gotten out of school and were starting their homework in our Homework Hour program. They kept saying, ‘Ms. Melvin, there’s something buzzing! There’s something buzzing!’ And I just kept telling them to be on their best be[ehive]or and to get back to studying. Next thing I know, the roof comes crashing in!”

The giant bee tore down the roof over the non-fiction, animal section, but thankfully no animals were harmed in the making of this catastrophe. (Insects on the other hand…) According to witnesses, the bee hovered over the building, threatening to sting. 

Before the bee could do any damage to the library patrons, four new heroes flew into the scene: a rock man, a man with stretchy arms, a man of fire, and (supposedly) an invisible woman. 

Twitter user @avengemyass coined the name “The Fantastic Four” for the group. 

While the rock man (lovingly nicknamed the Thing) held the bee down, stretch and the invisible lady (Mr. Fantatsic and the Invisible Woman - real original, we know) evacuated the building. Once the bee was contained, fire boy (he calls himself The Human Torch, no sources verify this claim) made enough smoke to calm the bee down for EGGStraction. 

Is this a new team of heroes or just a few new Avengers we’ve yet to meet? Rather than listen to me DRONE on, watch the skies for the newly formed Fantastic Four. 

As New York City BEEcomes a BEEcon for villain activity and disasters, on BEEhalf of the citizens of New York, we welcome this new group into our city with open SWARMS. 

* * *

‘Underwear, shirts, a spare Spider-man suit, replacement webs…. What else do I need?’ Miles thought to himself, flicking through his stuff for the third time. ‘Well, maybe a comb or something. Shampoo? Maybe shampoo, cause who knows if I can even afford to stay in a hotel. Or a motel. Maybe I’ll end up in a motel. Oh wait, there’s the whole age restriction, no ID thing. So maybe not. Does that mean I need a tent?’

Miles pulled his phone out, googling prices for tents. ‘Not too bad, I could stop at a Walmart on the way to the train station.’

He paused, looking at his suitcase. ‘If Uncle Aaron is hiding away in the woods, a suitcase would be a pain to carry around. But Mom and Dad did go on that hiking trip four years ago… Better go snooping.’

Miles flicked for the fifth time through the things he was taking. Spider-man suit, sewing kit, mouthguard, all essentials when you’re Spider-Man. Did he even need this many shirts and shorts if-

The door bangs open. “Miles, you’re never going to believe- what are you doing?” Peter asks, frozen in the doorway. 

Miles slowly turned to the door, eyes flicking between the piles of clothes and suitcase sitting on the bed. He unsubtly stepped in front of it all, blocking Peter’s vision of it. “Cleaning up my room.”

“Miles, I’m not blind. I can clearly see the _ massive _ suitcase behind you.” Peter crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow with almost Romanoff level severity. “What’s really going on?”

In a flash, Miles dropped his suitcase onto the floor and shoved it under the bed with his foot. Sweat dripped down his face. “Uh, nothing. Family trip, yeah, that’s all that’s going on.”

“Really? So that’s why your mom invited me over for dinner tomorrow night? And asked if I was coming to the building block party on the roof on Saturday?” 

“Oh, you didn’t hear? My, uh, Grandma in Washington is really sick so we’re kind of in a rush. She was going to cancel in like a couple of hours,” Miles lied, shifting the suitcase further into the depths of under his bed.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Miles, I just got off the phone with her. She literally just invited me. Between that and the weird twitchy thing your eyebrow is doing, you might want to unweave your web of lies before you get stuck in them forever. What’s going on?” 

He couldn’t help himself, Miles raised an eyebrow at the phrasing. “Web of lies? That’s your best effort?”

“I hate you.” Peter closes Miles’ door and tackles him onto the bed, messing up the piles of clothes he hadn't quite stuffed in his suitcase yet. “Where are you planning on going?” 

Miles struggled, but eventually gave up and went limp. “If I say I don’t know, will you believe me?”

“Not a chance.” 

“And if I tell you that it’s the truth?”

“You better have a good explanation.” Peter lets him go, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Miles, I just want to help. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

He hesitates, his eyes dropping to his hands. “I don’t really want to talk about it, and I tried to tell you before. You didn’t listen.”

Peter’s brow furrows. “What do you mean you tried to tell me? I think I’d remember something this important.”

Miles folds his arms, “Yeah, well you weren’t paying attention.”

“Well-” Peter groans as he paces back and forth, hands finding their way to his hair. He pulls at a few strands before throwing his hands up, eyes soft and pleading. “I’m sorry, Miles, but I’ve got a lot going on and I-” He shakes his head. No, this isn’t right. This isn’t fair. Peter looks over at Miles, a storm brewing in his own eyes. “No, no, no. I’m not going to apologize because you want to put the blame on me. _ You’re _ the one who up and disappeared on me. How am I supposed to be there if you shut me out, Miles? I may have had a bad day where I was a shitty friend, but you basically stood me up all week.” Peter crosses his arms, shoulders pulled back, legs spread apart -- this is a Spider-Man stance, he’s trying to make himself bigger. He hopes it’s working.

Miles’ eyes go cold. He stands up, “Yeah, I had a reason, Peter. I told you I couldn’t come, it wasn’t like I did it out of the blue! _ You _ were the one who couldn’t even pay attention for five seconds and instead went swinging off who knows where!”

“Did you ever consider I was going through something, too? It’s not like I can devote everything to you, Miles. And when I ditched, I had to investigate a potential villain, thank you very much. You know why? Because we’re _ Spider-Man _ and that’s our _ job _, Miles. You know that.” Peter takes a step forward. 

Miles grits his teeth, “You only said you had something to ‘check up on.’ Get out of my room, Peter.”

Peter blinks, mouth agape. “What?”

“You just want to fight. Get out,” Miles hisses, fists curled by his side.

“I didn’t come here to fight. I came here to tell you this exciting news I had, but whatever.” Peter pulls back, face dropping as he turns to the door. He stands there, hand on the door knob and whispers, “You really don’t want to tell me that bad?”

Miles hesitates, face grimacing. He sighs, “It’s my Uncle’s string,” he finally says, “It got new colors a couple of days ago.”

“How can you be sure?” 

Miles lifted his pinky up, the one that connected him to Uncle Aaron. “The colour came back a few days ago, and changed. I thought he was dead but - he’s not. I don’t know how it happened, it just did.”

Peter lets out a puff of air. “Wow… that’s huge. Are you okay?”

Miles eyes dropped back down. “I’ll be fine. I just want to figure it all out before Mom or Dad freak out. It could be, uh, Spider-Man related is all.”

“And that’s what you’re going to figure out? Is if this is Spider-Man related or just Morales family drama?” Peter gets up and paces Miles' (cluttered) room. 

Miles snorts despite himself, “In layman’s terms, yeah I guess so.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, then.” Peter pulls at his hair as he leans his forehead against Miles’ door. He stands there for a few minutes, shoulders rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. Miles watches him silently, fiddling with his hands. Peter shoves himself off the door and turns to Miles, hands on his hips. “Then let’s go.”


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the adventure begins!

“Go where?” Miles asks, puzzled.

Peter shrugs. “Wherever you think your uncle is. We’ll follow your lead. I’ll just be back-up. Because you’re not leaving without me, Pikachu,” Peter says. 

“No way, this is my business,” Miles immediately declares, standing up and folding his arms. “Stay out of it.”

“No,” Peter says. “You need me-”

“I don’t. I’m just as capable as you, y’know,” Miles spits.

“It’s not about being capable or not,” Peter says. “It’s about having the numbers against whatever the hell you’re trying to get involved in.” 

“Yeah? Well, what if I know what I'm getting into ? I’ll be fine, it’s just my Uncle. It’s not like I’m going up against Kingpin.” He almost stumbles over the last word, but holds firm. “Stay out of it Peter, I’m warning you.”

“Or you’ll do what?” Peter steps forward, dangerously close to Miles. “You’ll shoot me with a web? Shock me? Punch me? What are you going to do about it, Miles?”

His eyes flick over to the window. “This.” With the short distance between them, there's no time for Peter to react when Miles plants his hand on his chest and venom shocks him. Then, only moments later he camouflages and climbs out the window and out of sight.

Miles pauses on the brick wall just outside his bedroom, waiting for Peter to fly past and after him. He waits a minute, but nothing happens. Not even a sound floats past him. Miles peers in and finds Peter sprawled across the carpet, knocked out cold.

Slowly, quietly, Miles creeps back in and crouches over Peter. He’s ready to spring away at any moment, but the opportunity never comes. He hadn’t realised just how much power he had put into that venom strike. Cold guilt weighs heavy in his stomach.

He glances over at the suitcase, still under the bed. Back at Peter. He would be such a jerk if he just ran off now… But Peter was so determined to come after him. Peter was nothing if not stubborn. He had to take this opportunity if he really didn’t want to drag him into it.

It wasn’t like Peter had been hurt. He was just unconscious. Miles could text him later to say sorry, but right now he had to get moving. There was only a week to find Uncle Aaron, and who knows where he was.

With that determined, Miles finds a hiking bag and stuffs his clothes, toiletries and everything else he might need inside. Still, Peter didn’t wake up. Miles pulls his mask on as he climbs onto the window sill. With one last guilty look, he jumped out the window and began to swing.

* * *

Peter groans as he sits up. His head feels fuzzy and warm like he’s stuck with a cold during a heatwave. He yawns as he runs a hand over the back of his head. His hand runs over a bump, a knot-

Peter scrambles to his feet, frantically looking around. What the hell happened? He’d come to hang out with Miles, to tell him about his study session with Johnny freakin’ Storm, and how there’s a new superhero team. Peter felt so guilty about not giving Miles time, but he was trying, that’s why he stopped by the Morales’ house in the first place. He had even called Rio to see if she’d be okay with him staying the night…

And then he finds Mile packing? What was that about? He’s barely twelve, he can’t go out on his own, not yet. He needs someone to help him, to rent a hotel room- Where was he planning on staying? In his car? Oh that’s right, he doesn’t have one because a) he can’t drive yet, b) they live in New York, the land of public transportation, and c) he’s a Spider-Man!

All he remembers is they started arguing and then- Miles zapped him. 

Oh my god, Miles venom zapped him. 

Peter rips out his phone, tearing the back pocket off his jeans. He opens it, pulls up Miles’ name, and lets his thumbs go to town.

* * *

**Peter:** Did you just ZAP ME?

**Peter:** Miles call me 

**Peter:** seriously

**Peter:** YOU CAN’T JUST ZAP SOMEONE AND LEAVE THEM ON READ MORALES

**Peter:** THATS NOT HOW THIS WORKS

**Peter:** answer the call.

**Peter:** I’m not even kidding Miles answer my call please

**Peter:** dude

**Peter:** you’re pissing me off

**Peter:** okay fine. I’ll let you have your little temper tantrum. You’ve got ten minutes. 

**Peter:** 6 minutes.

**Peter:** 2 minutes Miles. Answer me dammit

**Peter:** are you

**Peter:** You ZAP ME and then IGNORE ME all while RUNNING AWAY FROM ME 

**Peter:** I’m like two seconds from calling your dad. 

**Miles:** not cool

**Peter:** oh so that gets a response -_- where tf are you?

**Miles:** leave me alone, this is my thing

**Peter:** no, you don’t get to run away from this. We need to handle this like adults

**Miles:** Like the seventeen year old is any better then me

**Peter:** At least I’m not running away from home and friend, who is just trying to help mind you, to go on some hero’s quest 

**Miles:** I’m not running away and this isn’t a hero's quest. This isn’t about you. Just drop it. Sorry for zapping you

**Peter:** sOrRy fOR zaPpINg YoU 

**Peter:** I’m sure you are. 

* * *

_ Ri- _

“You’ve reached Miles. Not here right now, doing something way cooler. I’ll get back to you when I can so I wouldn’t leave a voicemail. It’s not 2000. Byeeeeeeee-”

_ Ring. _

“You’ve reached Miles. Not here right now, doing so-”

_ Ring. _

_ Ring. _

_ Ri- _

“You’ve reached Miles. Not here right now, doing something way cooler. I’ll get ba-”

_ R- _

“You’ve reached Mi-”

* * *

Peter tosses his phone onto Miles’ bed and sits down on the edge. What the hell is happening right now? Sure, he and Miles haven’t spent a lot of time together but Peter wasn’t sure if he could! His chest bursts into flames now, or rather his soulmate string does, and everything else in his life has fallen apart. He doesn’t want to bring Miles into this, not when Miles already had so much in his life between keeping his identity a secret (from his parents, no less - something Peter has no idea about. He doesn’t have parents to hide from.), school, and just the casual threat to his safety every time he puts on the Spider-Man suit: usual teen stressors that Peter didn’t want to add to. 

And now he’s gone. 

Miles has run off to god knows where to do god knows what and Peter can’t do anything about it. 

Peter snatches his book bag off the floor, pushing Miles’ pillows back and slinging his bag onto the bed. He pulls out his Spider-Man suit. 

A minute and twenty seconds later (new record. Yay.), Peter’s no longer Peter. He’s Spider-Man and Spider-Man has a mission: to find the other Spider-Man before that Spider-Man gets himself killed. 

Peter swings out the window, leaving his things behind, and heads… he just starts swinging. That’s all he can do. 

He circles the block, checking every rooftop and alleyway for a glimpse of Miles. Who knows how far he was able to get in the short time Peter was unconscious (he still can’t get over that - Miles venom zapped him like a common criminal. The audacity.) or even which direction he went in. 

He can’t track Miles' phone, that’s not fair to Miles. There’s no guarantee the Spidey Watch Twitter would have seen him or posted if they did. All Peter can do is trust his spidey senses and let instinct guide him toward Miles.

Peter makes his way through the neighborhood, swinging over cars and through the alleys. Kids stop to stare and cars honk at him as they wave (Peter takes it as a polite hello. It most definitely is not). 

Familiar golden arches shine out to him, a beacon of hope in a murky world filled with danger and insecurities threatening to swallow Peter’s mind whole with just the mere thought of what Miles could get into - what people could do to Miles. 

He hops onto the roof and walks down the side of the building. Peter glances into the restaurant.

No sign of Miles. 

Dammit. 

Peter leans against the brick wall and covers his face. Where is he? God, all he wants to do is talk this through, to help him come up with a plan.

Maybe he’s smothering him. Maybe he’s being overprotective. Maybe he’s worrying himself for nothing. 

He can’t help it though. 

He’s getting to the point that he’ll literally be sick if he doesn’t figure out a game plan. He needs to find Miles, preferably without Jefferson and Rio finding out, and-

Peter lets out a blood-curdling scream, spinning around to punch the dumpster with everything in him. 

The dent he leaves behind a dent deep enough to split the dumpster in two. 

He can’t live like this. 

He needs to find Miles and he needs to find him now. 

* * *

It should not have been as satisfying as it was to switch his phone all the way off. Miles did feel guilty, but not enough to turn his phone back on. Peter had just barged on in and demanded to come along like he was some little kid. Yeah he had venom blasted him, but he had gotten right up in Miles’s face. What else was he supposed to do?

Normally venom blasts wouldn’t have knocked him out, and yeah that was his fault, but he had said sorry.

...Peter didn’t believe his apology though.

Well maybe it didn’t matter, not until he got back. If he got far enough away, then there was nothing Peter could do. He would find Uncle Aaron, talk with him and come home to deal with whatever mess had been left in his wake.

He had gotten to the lower buildings now, to the point that it was hard to swing. So here he was, walking on the sidewalk looking like a doofus. He could barely even claim he was a cosplayer, would a Spider-Man cosplayer really wear a huge hiking bag on their back? Then again, people were dressing up as him. They’ve got to be a little bit nuts to do that.

Then he remembered how Peter had called this a hero's quest. He had no idea what was happening and he just thought Miles wanted to do this? Yeah right! He had to face his Uncle who he had thought he had killed. Did that sound like a fun time? No! It was the opposite of fun! It was the worst!

He kicked at a loose pebble. He just had to let it go. Peter had every right to be angry after he had zapped him. It didn’t tickle.

He just had to hope Peter wouldn’t try and follow him further, but his gut feeling was telling him otherwise.

* * *

Peter’s never swung this fast in his life. He can barely breathe, chest heaving with each jump as he releases the web and starts a new one. 

There’s a burning in his chest; Peter doesn’t know if it’s from how hard he’s pushing himself or his string. Maybe even both. 

He places a hand over his chest as he lets himself fall, gliding over the street with the web in hand. Peter can feel the heat rising from his string, growing hotter with each upstroke of his swing. 

Peter rounds the corner, mask bunching around his eyes as he grimaces with pain. He tries to swing through it, taking in air as much as he can and hoping it actually reaches his lungs. Everything burns, everything’s too hot, everything hurts. 

Dammit, he really needs to find Miles. 

A flash of skin-melting heat passes him. Peter’s head swivels around as he sees the Human Torch hover ahead of him, waving. 

“Torch?” Peter asks as he lands on the ledge of the closest roof. 

“How’s it going, Spidey?” Torch asks, crossing his ankles as he leans against an invisible wall. 

Peter pulls out his phone from a pocket in the seam of his suit. “Have you seen the other Spider-Man? Black and red suit?” 

Torch scratches at his neck. “No? Is he lost or something?” 

“No, yes?” Peter checks his phone; no texts or calls from Miles. “I don’t know what he’s doing,” Peter says, shoulders falling. “We’ve been going through something I guess. I don’t know how to explain it-”

“No need,” Torch says. He flies closer and sits beside Peter, the flames surrounding his body extinguishing themselves except for his face. 

Peter glances at the tight fitting, navy and black spandex suit. “New suit?”

Torch runs a hand down his front, smoothing the fabric over his chest and abs. “Got them this morning. My sister and her fiance designed them for us.”

“Us? So the Fantastic Four is a thing?” 

“For now at least, until I can find cooler sidekicks.” 

Peter snorts. “Good luck.” 

Torch wrings his hands together. “How can I help find the other Spider-Man?” 

“I don’t know. He’s running away, I guess. And he can make himself invisible so I don’t really know if we can find him if he doesn’t want us to.” 

“Hey, Spidey, it’s okay,” Torch says as he rests a hand on Peter’s shoulder. It’s hot (not _ hot _ hot, but actually burning his flesh hot), teetering on the verge between comforting and scalding. “We’ll find him. Why don’t I take the outskirts of the city and you take care of Brooklyn? We can meet back here in an hour?” 

Peter looks up at the guy. He barely knows him and he’s volunteering to help? Definitely the hero type. “Yeah, okay. I like that.” 

Torch nods as he flies in front of Peter. “One hour!” He yells, flying off toward the coast. 

Peter flips off the ledge and shoots a web toward the next building, riding out his momentum. 

One hour goes by quick. Peter finds the Human Torch waiting for him on the same ledge they had left. “Any luck?” he asks, hopping onto the roof.

“No, but that doesn’t mean much. He could be in regular clothes.” Torch paces the ledge, balancing each step carefully. “I don’t know what he looks like to say if I saw him or not.”

Peter puts his head in his hands. “Yeah, I thought about that too.” 

“Hey,” Torch says, “he’s going to be okay.”

“I just- I haven’t been there for him. He needed me and all I could do was focus on my own problems.” 

“Spidey-” Torch kneels in front of him. He runs a hand over his flaming head and sighs. “How can I help?”

Peter’s eyes narrow, his mask mimicking the movement. “Why do you want to help so much? Is this the villain thing we were talking about? Are you just playing me?” 

Torch shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I’m doing at all-”

“Then why are you here, Torch? Why do you want to help me when we don’t even know each other?” 

“Because you look like you need a friend right now.” Torch stands up. “And I don’t exactly have a line of friends banging at my door, much less superhero friends.”

Peter looks up. “Superhero friends don’t knock, we just barge in and hope for the best.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I’m new to this whole superhero thing.”

“Why is that?” 

“Story for another time, Spids.” 

“Do your real friends know about your new alter ego?” Peter asks. 

Torch shakes his head. “Haven’t been feeling in the mood to talk to them. Not the ones I can trust, at least. Things have just been so-”

“Overwhelming? Hectic? Busy?” 

Torch’s shoulders fall. “Exactly.” 

Peter sighs. “It never goes away, you know. There’s always something else. Always something for you to worry about. You need someone to talk to about both lives, it helps.” 

The Human Torch sits against the roof, legs splayed out on the floor. “I don’t have anyone like that, Spidey.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. You’re right, we did just meet and now-”

“Now we’re friends.” Peter sits beside him. He pulls out his phone and sets in between them, screen up. “Red’s not going to answer any time soon, but there’s no way we can find him. Guess it's just time to wait.”

“Might be the smarter choice. Especially if he doesn’t want you to find him.” Torch nudges Peter’s shoulder. “Boundaries are key in friendships, you know?”

Peter sighs and leans his head back. “Yeah, I know. I just… worry about him. He’s like my kid brother and I don’t want him to think he has to be an adult just because he’s Spider-Man.”

Torch turns to him. “How old are you?”

Peter tilts his head. “How old are you?” 

“Eighteen,” Torch says. 

“Same,” Peter says, eyes narrowing.

Torch laughs. “And here I was thinking you were in your thirties.”

“I’m sorry, my ass is too good to be in my thirties already.” Peter crosses his arms.

Torch hums and looks away. “I just figured you did a lot of squats.”

“Nah, man, this is all natural. Pure spider-ass.” 

“Good to know,” Torch says. 

Peter chuckles as he watches the phone in front of him. They sit in silence for a moment, before he turns to Torch. “Why can’t you talk to your friends about this?”

“Let’s just say that the word ‘friend’ has lost its meaning. It’s hard to tell who is actually my friend and just in it for the models.” 

“Models? Who are you Johnny Storm?” Peter laughs. 

“Johnny Storm?” Torch asks. “What’s so wrong with him?”

Peter shakes his head. “Oh, nothing. He’s a dream. I’m pretty sure I’ve drooled over him enough in the past three years to fill a pool. In fact, if he were here right now, I wouldn’t even be able to talk I’d be struggling to compute because that’s just how fine he is and the effect he has on me.”

Torch laughs so hard he starts to wheeze.

“What’s so funny?” Peter laughs. “Can’t a guy have a crush on a super model in peace?”

Torch falls over, laying down on the roof, hands clutching his stomach. 

Peter shakes his head, pouting. “Seriously, this is so unfair. You’d think I actually made a fool of myself in front of the guy with how you’re acting. You should see me at school when he passes me in the hallway. You wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

That shuts Torch up. “You go to school with Johnny Storm?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, we even have a class together and somehow I managed to hang out with him one-on-one.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Torch says as he moves to sit in front of Peter, “not only do you go to school with him, but you have a major crush on the guy too?”

“Yes, Torch. And you’re only getting this information because you seem cool and desperate for friends so I’m trying to extend the olive branch here. Can we not make fun of my undying love for him?”

Torch squeaks, laughing. “Undying love? Seriously?”

Peter gets up. “Look, can’t we all have an embarrassing crush on a boy in our school who just happens to be one of the biggest celebrities in our age demographic right now? Can’t I thirst in peace?” 

“I need more answers,” Torch says. 

“Fine,” Peter groans. “You get three.”

“My first question is how long have you had the crush and when did you first realize it?” Torch asks.

“That’s two-”

“They’re a package deal.” Torch waves him off. “Answer it.”

Peter glances at the phone and sighs. “About seventh grade, when he first transferred. He was in the cafeteria telling everyone about the lab his sister worked in and it hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s not as powerful as it once was,” Peter says. “But it’s still there.”

Torch shakes his head, the flames dancing with the movement. “And when did you hang out?” 

“I tutored him.” Peter places his hands on his hips. “One more, so choose wisely.”

Torch hums as he rubs his chin. “Ever thought about him in a _ certain _ way?” 

Peter chokes on air. “Torch, are you serious?”

“Answer me, Spidey. You said I get three questions.” Torch stands up, leaning against the roof. “I asked them.”

“I’m not answering that one.”  


“I think you just did.” 

“I did not.”

“But you did? Not answering is still an answer.” Torch laughs. “You’ve totally thought of Storm in bed, haven’t you.”

Peter walks away, toward the other side of the roof. “You know, I’m starting to not like you.” He glances over his shoulder. “But yes, not that you need to know that.”

Torch falls to his knees he’s laughing so hard. It lasts for what feels like an eternity (five minutes) until Torch is laughing so hard the flames flicker around him. He gasps, grabbing at his chest as he tries to catch his breath. 

“It’s not that funny,” Peter whines.

Torch shakes his head. “But it is!” As Torch’s laughter starts to turn to wheezing, his flames slowly extinguish themselves leaving none other than Johnny freaking Storm.

Peter has never wanted to spontaneously combust in his entire life. Until now. A very disgusting sound slips out of his throat, like a dying pig trying to say it’s last words, as Peter stares at a crying Johnny. 

“I’m sorry,” Torch - _ JOHNNY - _ says, “it’s terrible for me to laugh but I can’t help it. The idea of someone having such a crush on Johnny Storm and just openingly admitting it… Damn, that was gold.”

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?” Peter says, crossing his arms.

Johnny’s face falls. “What’d I do?” 

“Well, _ Johnny _, I don’t know what you did. Maybe it was teasing me about my celebrity crush or that you, I don’t know, just casually, happen to be the very person I’m talking about,” Peter huffs.

“What do you-” Johnny pats his face and winces. “Sorry, still, ugh, trying to get used to my powers.”

“Fire needs oxygen, when you were running out your body prioritized living over fire,” Peter says, eyes narrowed at Johnny. 

Johnny bites his lip and dammit if Peter’s stomach doesn’t twist. “How pissed are you?”

“Pissed enough.” 

“Spidey-” 

Peter shakes his head and grabs his phone off the floor. “Just stop talking for a moment so I can process my stupidity.” He opens his phone and sighs. “Besides, I need to see if I can’t find Pikachu.” 

“Pikachu? You call him ‘Pikachu?’” Johnny shakes his head and looks over the city, keeping his distance. “I think I have a good idea as to who you are, by the way.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter opens Miles’ texts. 

“Yeah. I’ve only needed four tutors in my life, three were girls.” Johnny sits on the ledge of the roof. “Don’t get me wrong, I love women but I’d remember a cute guy over a girl any day,” he says softly. 

Peter pauses. “You think I’m-” Peter’s phone dings. Miles’ location is being shared again, which means he turned on his phone. 

Which means Peter knows where he is.

“Miles’ outside of New York,” Peter says, showing Johnny the phone. 

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “You really going to give Miles’ identity like that, Peter?”

Peter hops onto the ledge and pauses. “Are you coming with or no?”

“Flame on!”


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all else fails: Road Trip!

The loudspeaker turned on with a screech, hurting Miles ears in the process, announcing to his dismay that ‘all trains have been delayed due to an incident up ahead.’ Which unfortunately left Miles with a choice - wait however long it takes for a train to turn up, which could be hours for all he knew, or to get moving and figure out another way to follow his string.

There was nowhere for him to swing, this area was pretty quiet - so if he wanted a taxi (which no, they’re expensive) he would have to call the company. Walking didn’t seem ideal either.

So, waiting it was.

He saw a flash of movement outside the train station, which he dismissed as another car turning up to drop someone off. This train station was a ghost town, there was only the snoring guy at the toll booth and another teenager with headphones on bopping to their music.

He watched it out of boredom more than anything, so when familiar messy hair popped up out of the passenger side a lump of anger formed in his throat.

Peter shuts the door and jogs into the station. He stops at the information desk, hands on the surface as he looks around, mumbling something to the clerk. Peter’s eyes meet Miles and his body jerks forward as he sprints toward Miles. “Thank God,” he says.

Miles stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket, “You seriously followed me? What the hell, Peter,” he spat.

“You can yell at me all you want, but in my good conscience, I can’t let you go alone.” Peter runs a hand through his hair and points toward the white Mustang outside. “We’ll drive you wherever you want to go, but you’re not going alone. Let me help you, please,” he pleads.

“We?” Miles questions, folding his arms.

Peter nods. “You really think I can drive you myself? Johnny’s driving. He’s letting us borrow his car.” 

“First off, I’m not going with you. Second, who’s Johnny and does he, y’know, know?” Miles said, voice dropped to a whisper.

Peter’s brow furrows as he whisper yells, “Johnny is Johnny freakin’ Storm!”

“The model kid? Dude. No way am I going with that guy. You still haven’t told me if he knows.”

“Yes, okay? He knows.” Peter puts his hands on his hips. “And he’s got one too.”

“Got one what?” Miles asks, eyebrow raising.

“A secret identity,” Peter hisses. He sighs. “Miles, work with me here. We can talk more in the car but wherever you need to be- whatever you have to do must be urgent, so we need to go. And we need to go now. Before your dad gets home and finds you’ve left. Do you really want everyone in New York looking for you?”

“Do you really think I would have come this far without thinking about that?” Miles says, bemused. “He thinks I’m on a school trip and the school thinks I’m sick. I’ve got a week to find Uncle Aaron.”

Peter stares at him, breathing heavy. He looks up and nods. “Fine. I’m just trying to help, Miles.” 

Miles looks down at his feet, guilty. “Yeah, but this is my thing. I don’t want you getting involved. It’s nothing against you, ok?”

“And it can still be your thing! You can take the lead, tell us where you want to go, but I can’t watch you go and get yourself hurt. It’d kill me, Miles. I can’t lose someone else.” Peter shakes his head and turns away, starting for the doors. “Just..” He stops. “Just call me when you get wherever? And when you find Aaron? Just so I know you’re okay?” 

“I will. I’ll be fine Peter, promise,” Miles says sitting back down. He leans back, putting a hand on his backpack. Or, he was going to. He looks to his side and finds an empty seat where it was. “Hey Peter?”

Peter turns. “Yeah?” 

“Have you seen my backpack? It was here a second ago, I swear…” Miles mutters the last part, scratching at his head.

Peter takes a deep breath. “Miles, I didn’t see a backpack. Are you sure you had it?”

“Course I had it, it’s got all my money and supplies for the trip. It had a sleeping bag and everything!” Miles whisper yells, growing more frantic as he looks around.

“Oh my god, Miles.” Peter gets down on his knees and looks under the bench. “This is why I worry.” 

“I literally only got up to talk to you. It was beside me all along, I swear.”

“Well, I didn’t see it so,” Peter says as he crawls around the floor. “Did anyone come over here before I got to you?”

“There was only a teenager over…” his voice drifts off. “They’re gone.”

“It’s a good thing I’m here then.” Peter starts toward the door again. “C’mon, we packed for everything, so we’ll be covered.”

Miles reluctantly tags along. “And what are you going to tell Aunt May? School?”

“Something like that. Unlike you, I’m eighteen so it’s not like I’m a child or anything. Besides, Aunt May knows. I just have to tell her its a Spider-Man thing and she’ll be okay.”

Miles gives me a sceptical look but doesn’t press him further. They get to the car and Miles hops into the backseat, giving Johnny a look. “How’d you get dragged into this anyway?”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Johnny chuckles. He twists in his seat. “Peter, here, needed my help.”

“And what's your ‘secret identity’?” 

“Oh,” Johnny chuckles, “I can do this.” He holds up his hand, where his fingers light on fire, flames engulfing his hand.

Peter turns to Miles. “He’s the Human Torch, part of that new group.”

“Oooh,” Miles says, “you’re the fire guy. How’d you get your powers? Did a radioactive fire bite you?”

“Did you just-” Peter’s shoulders shake with laughter.

Johnny pulls out of the parking spot, engine revving as he gets on the road. “That’s a long story.” 

“Oh I see, _ you _ bit the fire. Got it,” Miles says, nodding like he understands everything now.

“Where am I going?” Johnny asks, glancing between Peter and Miles.

“About that,” Miles says slowly. “I don’t actually know where he is. Only the general direction,” he says, pointing to his right.

“So, I’m just following a string that I can’t see?” Johnny asks. 

Peter shrugs, “Yes?”

“This is why it’s easier as a one-man job,” Miles points out. “He could be anywhere from here to Alaska and we wouldn’t know.”

Johnny nods and settles into his seat. “Road trip it is.” 

Miles sighs into his hands, “Oh no.”

They drove west, listening to Miles’ intuition. Johnny turned on the radio a few minutes in, a national rock station, and let the music play. Peter settled in, texting Aunt May every now and then to let her know where they were.

Miles didn’t say too much, except to tell directions, and watched the world pass by out the window.

Johnny glances in the rearview mirror. “Is he okay?” he whispers.

Peter shakes his head. “No, I think whatever is going on is really eating at him. He’s not exactly thrilled for us to be here, either.” 

“I know if Sue did this to me, I’d rip her head off.” Johnny leans so he’s closer to Peter. “You didn’t exactly let him explain himself-”

“First of all, I’ve given him plenty of opportunities to explain. Second, if you didn’t like this then why’d you come with me? Why did you offer to drive and do all of this extravagant things so I could find him?” Peter asks, back to the window. 

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I felt bad? You obviously were hurting and panicked, Pete. I just wanted to help.” He shrugs and moves his hand in front of his face, voice soft as he says, “and maybe… maybe I’ve felt the same thing.”

“About your sister?” Peter asks. 

“No, not the panicky thing. That was a bad transitional phrase. Um, the same thing you confessed on the roof.” Johnny eyes Peter as he shifts lanes.

Miles looked up from the back, but still didn’t say anything.

Peter sits up. “You also felt the same way about the same person? Cause that’s weird, Johnny. And there’s a different word for that.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “No, the same thing for someone _ else _. It was wrong of me to tease you like that, especially since you didn’t know who you were talking to.”

“Oh yeah, everyone knows Johnny Storm is the Human Torch,” Peter says, crossing his arms. 

“Listen,” Johnny says, “I just started this whole superhero thing. Not sure where I’m going with it, but I doubt I’m staying a secret for long.” 

“Why’s that?”

“Setting stuff on fire is fun. And the world should know that I can do that.”

There was a small snort from the back, quickly covered up with a cough.

Johnny smiles, glancing to the backseat before he looks to Peter. “I think Miles agrees.”

“That’s because he’ll agree to anything that contradicts me.” Peter moves so he can whisper to Johnny. “What are you trying to say?” He’s leaning toward him, over the center console, and twisted in his seat. 

“Get a room,” Miles mutters from the backseat.

Peter rolls his eyes.

Johnny looks straight ahead, mouth curving upward. “I’m saying that maybe you weren’t so… one-sided. You don’t think I noticed the nerd in the front row who doesn’t know when to stop answering questions?” 

Peter blinks, hard and slow. “What are you trying to say, Johnny?”

“I’m saying,” Johnny’s barely talking, more breathing the words, “that if you wanted to kiss me right now, Peter, I wouldn’t say no.” 

“Not while you’re driving,” Miles says from the back. “And not in front of me, thanks.”

Peter swats at him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says to Johnny as he leans back, blushing. 

Miles pokes Peter on the shoulder, and when he looks back Miles makes kisses faces at him, grinning mischievously.

Peter reaches behind him, using the mirror to see, and webs Miles’ mouth.

Miles grabs at the webs, realises what's happened, and gives Peter the stink eye. His silent treatment was now indefinite until they dissolved.

Johnny snickers, covering his mouth. “That was so wrong,” he tells Peter.

Peter shrugs. “I’m not even sorry.”

“You do realize he’s the one giving us directions, right?” 

“Dammit.” 

* * *

“I’m hungry,” Miles complains.

“Miles, there’s no where to eat around here,” Peter sighs.

“I had snacks prepared in my bag. Did your superior packing skills come with food?” Miles grumbles.

“I have chips, I think, in the trunk?” Johnny says as he pulls over. “Want to hop out and grab them?” 

Peter gets out of the car, pulls his seat forward, and motions for Miles to get out. 

As he passed Peter, Miles whispers, “Go get him tiger.” With a mischievous grin plastered on his face, he disappears around the back to find the food.

Peter climbs back in his seat and sighs. “Thank you for this,” he whispers. 

Johnny leans forward. “No problem. Have you talked to him? About what’s going on?”

“He won’t give me details,” Peter says. “Just that it’s his uncle who he thought was dead.” 

“His string came back to life?” Johnny gasps. 

Peter nods. “I’m guessing so. We haven’t talked a lot. Guess we both had a lot going on though.” 

Johnny’s brow furrows. “Is everything okay with you?” 

“Yeah, just some soulmate string issues.” Peter waves him off.

“Whoa, soulmate string? Like the big red one?” Johnny leans back, cracking his knuckles. 

“That’s the one,” Peter says. “I don’t know what’s going on. There’s just-”

“A lot?” Johnny offers. 

Peter nods. “Yeah.”

“Hey guys, look what I found,” Miles says, holding three large bags of chips in his hand. “I think one is expired but who cares.”

Peter takes one as he gets up, letting Miles back in the seat. 

Johnny gets them back on the road quickly. “Miles, you have any idea where we’re going?” 

Miles fiddles with the string. “Uhh, that way,” he says pointing to his left. “Maybe it would be better if we knew if we were headed north or south.”

“Are you telling me we’ve been going the wrong way?” Johnny asks slowly.

He looks down at the string again. He sheepishly grins. “Whoops?”

Johnny takes a deep breath. He jerks the steering wheel, sending them spinning into the opposite lane of traffic. The tires spin as he flies down the asphalt, nearly hitting 100mph as he drive. “I think I saw an exit a mile or so back. We’ll head north.” 

Miles scratches at his head, “I think I should probably just check a compass or something. Then we don’t have to check as much.”

Peter hands Miles his phone, the compass app on the screen. “Use this,” he says softly. 

Seconds later, Miles pipes up with, “North west. We’re pretty far north already, must be in Canada or something.”

“Shit, you got your passport?” Peter asks, twisting to look at Miles.

“Uh… no. I thought about packing it, but I’m guess I’m glad I didn’t.” Miles says, handing back the phone.

Johnny reaches over and pats Peter’s clothed shoulder. “Don’t worry, I can get us over the border without passports.” 

“Or we can just swing over?” Peter chuckles.

“That too.” 

“Are you not gonna question how he’d get us over, Peter? Your boyfriend knows how to smuggle people over the border. I’m just sayin,” Miles says, more amused than alarmed.

“He was going to fly us over there, ya dingus,” Peter says. 

“Ah, nice. Hope you’ve got some burn treatment then,” Miles half jokes.

Johnny rolls his eyes. “You know, we’re probably not going to make it to the border before dark.”

“My money was in that backpack, so... “ Miles says slowly.

Peter looks to Johnny. “We brought a tent, right?”

“I think so?” Johnny scratches his head. “Although I could-”

“We’ll find a campsite once you’re too tired to drive.” Peter looks to Miles. “That cool with you?”

“I’m not complaining,” he says. “I was thinking I’d have to sleep in the wilderness anyway.”

Johnny sighs. “Let’s just hope I don’t burn the forest down.” 

“Smokey the Bear would hate you. You’d be his worst enemy. The vision of his nightmares,” Peter says. 

“At least we have our own personal campfire. We should totally buy marshmallows on the way,” Miles says excitedly.

“I am not your personal fire, but that does sound like a really good idea. When we stop for gas, you guys should get s'mores supplies,” Johnny says.

“Oh sorry, should have known, you’re Peter’s personal campfire.”

Peter reaches behind him and slaps Miles’ ankle. “You’re a jerk,” he says, laughing.

“Grab some protection at the gas station. You never know,” Miles says, wiggling his eyebrows. He shifts his ankles out of smacking range.

“Does that mean we have your blessing? Cause that tent is only made for two people.” 

Horror swamps Miles’s face. “Only for two? That’s it, I’m sleeping in the car.”

“But I thought you were cool with it?” Peter asks. 

“It was a joke! I was making fun of you! You’re so gross,” Miles complains, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t want none of that.”

Johnny chuckles. “You sure? Cause I wouldn’t mind knowing what a spider is like in bed?” 

Peter snorts. “God, Johnny, that might have been too far. You’re gonna give him an aneurysm.”

“I’m done with you people. I’m out. Road trip over. Go settle your differences FAR away from me,” Miles grumbles, curling up into a ball as much as one can in the backseat of a car.

Johnny turns up the radio as he laughs. He rolls down his window, sticks out his hand, and lights it on fire as he drives. 

“Be careful with that, please.” Peter twists so he can curl up in the seat, too. 

“I have to get the flames out,” Johnny says. “Otherwise I’ll randomly burst into flames when it gets too much.” 

Peter’s eyes widen. “Yeah, okay, this is better.”

“Imagine if we had organic webs and had to web a cocoon just to not explode it everywhere,” Miles muses, slowly coming out of his ball.

“I’d be done. No more Spider-Man. It’s all yours now.” 

“Yay! I can fight King Kong on my own now.” Miles jokes.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “We’re fighting King Kong now?” 

Peter laughs as he turns up the radio. “In your dreams, kid!” 

* * *

Miles sticks his marshmallow covered stick in Johnny’s direction and makes puppy eyes. “C’mon, at least one?” he pleads.

Johnny rolls his eyes and lights his upper torso on fire. “Happy?” 

“Very,” he says, big wide grin on his face as he smashes it into the s'more and swallows it down like an animal.

Peter winces. “That was disgusting.” 

The three of them are sitting outside of their tent, a few feet away from their car, around a small soon-to-be fire. 

Johnny leans forward and sets the sticks ablaze, extinguishing the flames around him. “We need to leave after sunrise,” he says. 

“Yeah, we don’t want a ranger finding us,” Peter says, moving his foot so it grazes Johnny’s.

Miles grins through his marshmallow covered teeth. “I say goodluck to that ranger. Imagine trying to go up against three superheroes with powers.”

“Don’t most superheroes have powers?” Johnny asks. 

Peter shakes his head. “I know quite a few assassins who don’t have an ounce of anything radioactive and they can kick my ass.” 

“I think I once had mine beat by Black Widow when I had just started. Thought I was an evil clone of Peter. Fun times,” Miles says, laughing to himself.

Peter snorts. “Oh god, I remember that.” 

Johnny whistles. “And you lived to tell the tale.”

“Don’t even ask me how. I think it was ‘cause I squealed like a piglet and she realised that I didn’t sound like Peter. And the fact she unmasked me.”

“I’m pretty sure she knew before you even squealed. We fight very differently.” Peter leans back on his elbows. 

“Are you saying she beat me up to make a point? Cause if you are, yeah she really made a point. I will never mess with that spider ever again. Besides, I got the better powers. You got the standard spider powers and I got the upgrade,” he asserts smugly.

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You might have gotten the upgrade, but I’ve got the better tech.” 

“Girls, you’re both pretty,” Johnny says as he adjusts the sticks, reaching his hand into the flame. 

“Says you, Mr Model,” Miles says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not just a model. I’m also a sports car racer, an astronaut, a pilot, a superhero,” Johnny trails off. “I could go on forever.” 

“Show off,” Miles laughs. “I’m going to go find some more sticks. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He gets up and wanders into the woods.

Johnny shakes his head as they watch him disappear. 

“So,” Peter says, sitting up. 

“So,” Johnny copies. He leans forward. “Are we going to talk about this or what?”

“Talk about what?”

“The fact we’ve both confessed our feelings and have had a weird energy the entire day?” 

Peter hides his face in his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny laughs as he crawls over to sit beside Peter. “Oh really? You don’t remember telling me all about your thirst?” 

“I’m trying to block that out of my mind,” Peter says. He rests his cheek on his knee. “You mentioned something about a crush too, though. How are you not embarrassed?”

He shrugs. “It’s not embarrassing when you know the other person feels the same way. Why play games?”

Peter hums. “Guess that makes sense.”

“So are we going to talk or what?” Johnny asks. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Peter says. “We know how we feel and now-”

“Now we decide where we go from here.” 

Peter shakes his head and runs a hand through the oily mess. He should have showered last night… “I just don’t see the point in dating.”

Johnny’s brow furrows. “Really?” 

“Yeah, with soulmates, why bother dating other people? Why not just wait until your soulmate arrives?” Peter says, voice lost in the crackle of the fire. 

“Okay,” Johnny sighs, shoulders falling. “If you really feel that way, then we won’t pursue this. But you might want to tell Miles that. I don’t think I can take him calling us boyfriends if there’s no chance with you.”

Peter sits criss-cross and faces Johnny. “Can we backtrack to that ‘no chance with me’ thing? Why do you want a chance with me anyway? You could literall-”

“Have anyone in the world,” Johnny mocks. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m aware. So could you. The world loves Spider-Man.” Johnny shifts so he’s leaning away from Peter. “Being Johnny Storm comes with baggage. Everyone wants me to drive them around, to hang out with me, to follow them on twitter… No one just wants Johnny.”

“I think I like Torch better,” Peter says, wincing. 

Johnny pushes Peter with his shoe. “You’re an ass,” he laughs. 

Peter winks at him. “For the record, I’ve had a crush on you since day one. Way before you were wearing Calvin Kleins on billboards.” 

“You’ve seen those?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You can’t miss them.”

Johnny pulls his box of fake cigarettes and puts one between his fingers. He sets it on fire and twirls it, watching the ash fly. “There’s something about you, Parker, that won’t leave my mind. I mean look at how you helped me earlier today. You sat me down and-”

“God, that was today?” Peter groans. “How did a single day feel like three years?” 

“Can say that again,” Johnny says. He takes a drag and blows smoke through his nostrils.

Peter nods toward his cigarette. “Is that to help with your powers?” 

“Yeah, I’m still getting used to the control. I keep bursting into flames randomly, which is why I’ve been in and out of class.” Johnny bites at his lip. 

“That’s... It’s always hard when you get your powers. I know I broke my glasses and bedroom door the first morning after I was bit.” 

“So that thing about being bit by fire was a legit question?” 

Peter shakes his head. “Nah, that’s just how we got ours. I was bit by a spider that I had shaken out of my dad’s stuff. Miles was bit… I actually can’t remember how Miles was bit,” Peter says, scratching at his temple. 

Johnny shrugs. “I got my powers because Sue, Reed, and Ben were going on a trip to space and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to pilot.” He takes another drag. “We ran into a storm or something, they know more than I do, and next thing we know we’re home and I can burst into flames, Sue’s invisible, Reed’s stretchy, and Ben’s a rock.”

“Your story is way cooler than mine.” 

“I’m the Human Torch, Peter. I’m the least cool thing in the world.” Johnny smirks.

Peter kicks him lightly. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t. I’m pretty sure you said you had an undying love for me, a thirst even.” Johnny leans forward, biting at his lip. 

“Alright,” Peter says, tucking his head down, “you got me. I like you. I really really like you.” 

Johnny’s really close now, his heat washing over Peter in a wave. “That’s pretty nice, since I really really like you too.” 

“You never said why,” Peter whispers, eyeing Johnny’s lips.

“That’s ‘cause you’re a little shit who doesn’t let me talk,” Johnny says. He licks his bottom lip. “I was going to say, that you’re a really kind and wonderful person outside of the suit and I think you’re one of the most authentic people I’ve ever met.” 

Peter’s breath hitches. 

Johnny’s nose is just shy of touching Peter’s. He glances down at Peter’s lips, then blue eyes meeting hazel. “Can I kiss you?” Johnny breathes. 

Peter closes his eyes and tilts his head forward, grazing his lips against Johnny’s. 

Johnny grabs the back of Peter’s head and his waist, holding him as their lips mold into each other. 

It’s the best kiss Peter’s ever had. Johnny’s lips are warm and soft and fit perfectly with Peter’s chapped lips. He’s kissing Johnny freaking Storm and he can’t get enough. Peter wraps his arms around Johnny’s neck.

God, he should have used more chapstick. There’s butterflies in his stomach, flapping around like they’re trying to make a personal tornado in his gut. 

Of course, now when he’s experiencing what’s probably the best kiss in his entire life, Peter’s chest starts to burn. It’s melting away his butterflies and causing his heart to race in a panic. 

Johnny’s lips are getting hotter, too. If he keeps getting warmer, Peter’s going to have to pull back and that’s the last thing he wants. Then again, he’d rather not have Johnny burn his lips off. He kind of needs them.

Johnny pulls back with a gasp, brushing his nose against Peter’s and breathing heavy. “Holy fu-”

“I know,” Peter giggles. “That was something else.” 

“You could say that again.” Johnny leans away as Peter opens his eyes. “I could kiss you all night. Would have, if I wasn’t getting hot.”

“Was that your first kiss since your powers?” Peter asks, not daring to look away from Johnny’s blushing face. He looks so pretty in the moonlight. 

Johnny nods. “Yeah, it was. But I hope I can get another once my heart slows down.” 

Peter laughs and kisses Johnny’s cheek once, twice, three times. “I think that can be arranged,” he whispers. “Besides, I need a breather. My chest was starting to hurt.” 

“It was?” Johnny pulls away. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Peter reaches up to rub at his string. “It was just getting hot. Think it has-”

“Oh my god,” Johnny gasps. He’s looking down, eyes glued to Peter’s chest. “Peter, look.” 

Peter glances down to find his a bright red line protruding from his chest. He follows it, tracing the string back to… Johnny’s chest. 

Johnny’s his soulmate. 

His _ soulmate _soulmate. 

Johnny’s his soulmate!

“We’re soulmates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by the lovely @the-italian-pasta on tumblr!
> 
> Check out the road trip here:  
https://the-italian-pasta.tumblr.com/post/187786640279/follow-the-yellow-brick-road-chapter-1


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **And they were soulmates.**
> 
> Important conversations and revelations are made.

“Oh my god, we’re soulmates,” Peter repeats as he scrambles to his knees. 

Johnny runs a hand over his face. “I can’t believe… Sue always said it’d take years to find my soulmate.”

Peter shrugs. “May said the same thing. I guess we got lucky?”

“We’re freaking soulmates,” he says. Johnny shakes his head and grabs Peter’s face in his hands, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. “God, you’re my soulmate.” 

“Your soulmate,” Peter says against Johnny’s lips. He kisses Johnny back just as hard for a moment before gasping, “I’d like to breathe, though.” 

Johnny pulls away, wiping at his lips. “I’m just shocked.”

Peter touches their string and gasps. “It was you!” 

“It’s me, yeah? We’re establishing that,” Johnny laughs.

“No, it’s you! My string burst into flames the other night. It’s been getting hot for the past couple of days on and off-”

“Oh my god, you’ve been feeling my powers,” Johnny says, covering his mouth. “Shit, are you okay?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. Scared me, but I’m okay. But why, why my chest?”

Johnny rubs at his neck. “That’s where I feel the fire first, usually. Was your chest getting hot just a second ago? While we were kissing?” 

“It was…”

Johnny bites his lip. “I’m still learning to control it. We’ll just have to be careful.” 

“Does that mean I can’t kiss you?” 

“God no, come here.” 

Johnny pulls Peter into his lips and wraps his arms around his back. Peter kisses him so hard they fall backward, their lips never leaving one another. It’s slow and urgent at the same time, a strange contradiction that Peter can’t get enough of. 

They have to stop every few seconds for Johnny to regain control, but his lips never leave Peter’s skin. He kisses all over Peter’s face and jaw, trickling down to his Adam’s apple before finding his way back to his lips. 

Peter mewls as he tugs on Johnny’s hair. He just wants to stay in this moment forever, to spend his life in Johnny’s arms with their lips connected for eternity.

“Hey guys, how’s it- GET A ROOM!” Miles shouts, dropping his bundle of sticks in favour of covering his eyes.

They jerk apart, their legs still entangled and lips swollen and covered in spit. “Miles,” Peter gasps, chest heaving, “I didn’t hear you come back.” 

“I need bleach for my brain. _ Why _ are you like this? I can never speak to you again,” Miles whines pitifully, turning his back on the display.

Johnny stands up and offers a hand to Peter. “Sorry you had to see that, Miles.” 

“I’m not,” Peter mumbles. 

“Gross, Peter. Do you want me to wander off again? Do you have to get it out of your system? I know teenage hormones are a thing but seriously, gross you two.”

Johnny laughs. “I think we’re done for now; you’re safe. We keep going and I might set Peter on fire.” 

Peter grimaces. “Can we not?” 

Johnny kisses his forehead. 

“I was mostly kidding about the boyfriend thing you know. Look what happens when I give you two ideas.” He slowly turns around, uncovering his eyes and sagging in relief when they’re not making out. “Now don’t do that again in front of me,” he orders.

Peter reaches for Johnny’s face, pulling him into a deep, but short kiss. “No promises,” he tells Miles as he pulls away. “Besides, we just found out some super valuable, life-changing news.” 

“Which is?” Miles asks.

“He’s the reason my string keeps bursting into flames while I sleep,” Peter says, pointing to Johnny.

Johnny’s eyes grow wide. “You were sleeping?”

Peter shrugs. “I woke up to it. Barely saved my bed, but otherwise, it was fine.” 

“Dude, when were you going to tell me that your freaking string’s been bursting into flame?” Miles almost yells, throwing his hands out. “That's kinda a thing you could have told me.”

“I tried to, thank you very much,” Peter snaps.

Miles folds his arms. “Sorry, guess I wasn’t listening but neither did you.”

“Well, it looks like we were both too far up our own asses to see when the other needed them,” Peter says softer. 

Miles pauses, looks at the ground. “I’m going to go set up the tent,” he says neutrally, walking over to the car twenty feet away.

“We’re soulmates, by the way,” Johnny calls, pointing between him and Peter. “That’s our news.”

He throws up a thumbs up. “Congrats.”

Peter takes a deep breath and walks toward the forest. “I’m going to take a leak. Be back.” 

Johnny looks between the two spider-people and groans, covering his face. “What did I get myself into?”

* * *

Peter is going to kill Miles. He’s going to kill him. There is no way that Miles survive through the night. Not at this rate. Peter is going to kill him. 

He lifts Miles’ arm off him for the third time in the past ten minutes. It’s like he’s somehow a Miles magnet. It doesn’t help that he’s spread eagle, limbs everywhere, leaving Peter to two options: sleep on his side or let Miles cling to him like a needy octopus. 

Johnny giggles into his pillow. He’s lying on his side, trying to give Peter as much room as possible given the circumstances, but Miles isn’t having it. It’s almost like he knows there’s extra room and he just has to touch it. 

Peter takes a deep breath through his nose and tries to relax. 

Miles’ hand hits him, slapping against his face. 

Johnny shoves his face into the pillow to muffle his laughter. 

“There’s no way he’s asleep,” Peter whispers. “He’s gotta be awake.” 

Johnny leans up and looks over at Miles: his face squished against the pillow, mouth open and drooling, eyes fluttering with REM sleep. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” Johnny chuckles. 

Peter covers his face and groans. “I just want sleep.”

“You could, um, always,” Johnny shifts back and opens his arm, “give him some space?” 

Peter opens one eye and looks over at Johnny. “Seriously? It’s hot as hell and you want me to cuddle you? A literal human furnace?” 

Johnny smirks. “Why not? Hell, I’ll even put on a shirt-”

“No,” Peter says softly, “it's okay.” Peter shuffles over, turning on his side, back to Johnny. 

“Um, can we-” 

“Johnny, do you want to spoon or do you want me to face you?” Peter sighs, blushing. Thank God it’s too dark to see. 

He doesn’t say anything. “I’m trying to think of how to do this where we don’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Peter groans. “I can’t think of that right now. Miles would really be scarred, then.” 

“First of all, it’s natural. Second, we can’t help it if that’s how we wake up.” Johnny taps Peter’s arm. “Face me.” 

Peter bites his lip as he faces Johnny, arms tucked against his own chest. “Happy?”

“Very,” Johnny breathes as he places a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I like cuddles.”

“You know I hate sweating at night?” Peter says. “This is going to be a nightmare for me to wake up to and not have a shower waiting for me.” He curls into Johnny’s chest, nose pressed to his sternum. “But I’ll suffer for this.” 

Johnny hums as he holds Peter tight. 

They lay there for a moment with Johnny’s arms wrapped around his middle and his check against Peter’s forehead. 

“This is nice,” Johnny whispers. “After everything we’ve been through today, this,” he takes a deep breath, “is nice.” 

Peter nods. “It is.” He presses a kiss to Johnny’s bare chest, right above his red soulmate string. _ Their _ red soulmate string. “You know, I thought you died in a fire.”

“What?” 

“I thought you died in a fire,” he says. “When my string burst into flames while I was asleep, I could only assume it was because you had died. In a fire.”

Johnny pulls back. “You’ve been walking around with that bouncing idea in your head for what? A week?”

Peter shrugs. “Yeah. It’s not like my first thought would be you got superpowers.” 

“Fair enough.” Johnny tilts Peter’s chin up and kisses him, slow and sweet. “Still wish you didn’t have to go through that,” he whispers against Peter’s lips.

“You’ve kissed me more in the past twenty-four hours than I’ve experienced in my entire life, so I think that makes up for it.” Peter kisses him again, a hand traveling up to hold Johnny’s jaw. 

Johnny smiles. “Can you blame me?” 

“Not really,” Peter says as he pulls back, “I’m hot as hell.” 

Johnny laughs, tucking his head into Peter’s neck. “Got that right,” he whispers. 

They lay there, breathing in time as their hearts sync to the same beat. Peter’s fingers run along Johnny’s neck, scratching into his scalp and sliding back down to his shoulder. Johnny’s kissing at Peter’s bare shoulder, whispering sweet nothings every few seconds. It’s heavenly, everything Peter needed after these past few weeks and he just wants-

Miles hand slaps his face, a leg coming up over his own. 

“Oh my god, Miles, move over!” Peter yells, getting up as he pushes the kid off. 

“Pineapples on cheese- huh?” Miles mumbles, half asleep. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, looking at the two of them cuddled together and his nose wrinkles. “You better not be doing anythin’.”

“You keep taking all the room and we just might with how close we are,” Peter grumbles. “Stay on your side, dude.” 

He salutes and rolls over onto his side of the tent and falls back asleep.

Peter groans as he throws his own leg over Johnny’s, knees overlapping. “I can’t with him right now.” 

Johnny pushes the hair out of Peter’s face. “He’s just a kid, Pete. Cut him some slack.”

“I just don’t understand why he won’t talk to me,” Peter says. “When I was his age, losing Uncle Ben broke me, especially since I had just gotten bit and had all these powers with nothing to do with them. I would have done anything to have someone help me along. Even just someone to talk to.” Peter closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Johnny’s. “I just want to be there for him.”

“Give him time,” Johnny says. “He has his reasons, so give him time to come to you.” He settles in his place. “Now let’s get some sleep. Who knows what tomorrow will be like.” 

* * *

Come morning, Miles is the first awake and fiddling with the leftover logs and sticks, trying to start a fire to cook some breakfast and warm-up. The crisp morning has his every breath billowing before him.

Johnny crawls out of the tent. “Morning,” he yawns. “Need help with that?”

“Please, I can’t get this thing started. I’m trying all the tricks I know and nothing is working,” he says with a shrug. “You’re the fire guy, so…”

With a flick of his hand, fire shoots out from Johnny’s palm and into the stack of sticks Miles made. “There we go.” 

Miles sticks his hand out, humming his pleasure at his newfound warmth. “Thanks. Did you guys buy anything I could cook for breakfast? Or even just some bread?”

Johnny scratches at his abdomen. “Um, I think the cooler should have some bacon in it? Have you fried bacon before?” 

He smiles, “Once or twice for mother's day. You wanna help?”

“Don’t look at me. Sue’s got me spoiled. I’ve never had to cook. Peter’s the one who said he’d cook breakfast this morning, but we can see where that’s going.” Johnny motions toward the tent.

Miles snorts, “I really should have warned you guys. I was banned pretty early on from sleeping with Mom and Dad because I kept them awake all night. I’ll sleep in the car tonight, if we have to.”

Johnny shakes his head. “Peter won’t let you.” He sits down beside Miles. “For one, that’d be too awkward for us. You’re a buffer right now that we both really need. We might be soulmates and everything, and I don’t think either of us could stop ourselves from going further, but neither of us are ready for that. And secondly, and most importantly, Peter cares for you more than he’ll admit. I’m pretty sure he’d risk his life for you, if you needed him to.” Johnny shrugs. “He’s not going to kick you out of the tent, even if that means he gets smacked in the face every few minutes.” 

Miles looks down at the fire. “I know he cares, he cares a lot. I knew he would want to come with me on this whole journey. I know I’ve probably looked like a douche since you’ve met me, but there are some things I’d rather he didn't know.”

“You are not a douche. Let me tell you, I work with a bunch of guys high off their own testosterone every day and you, my friend, are not a douche.” Johnny pats a hand on Miles’ back. “I think you guys are just not clicking right now.”

Miles shakes his head, “Turns out not talking during our chaotic lives makes things harder. Who knew?”

“You’re both to blame on that one,” Johnny says. He reaches down to fix one of the logs. “You want to talk about this, though?” 

Miles sighs, “I guess you should probably know what we might be getting into anyway. Look, just don’t tell Peter unless you have to. Please?”

Johnny crosses his heart with a flame covered finger. “Never.” 

Miles smiles faintly at that. “There's really no easy way to put this. I- I’m the reason Uncle Aaron died. Not like Peter, where he didn’t act and the robber killed his Uncle. I venom-struck my Uncle and... his suit exploded.”

“Damn,” Johnny whispers. “That’s a hard load to carry.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Have you told anyone that?”

“No…” he says slowly. “I never told anyone. I had just gotten my powers and I hadn’t told anyone but Uncle Aaron. What was I supposed to say? I had to say the stove exploded.” He wipes away a small tear. “Then when I met Peter and told him about my powers, I couldn’t tell him. He would never look at me the same way. Never.”

Johnny bites his lip. “I don’t know how Peter would react. We did just meet. But I don’t think he’d hold this against you. If Peter thinks like I do, then he’s gotta know there’s more to the story than that. You don’t seem like the type to just kill someone, especially not your family and someone you’re close enough to have a string with.” 

Miles hesitated longer. “...Yeah, there is. He wasn’t a very nice guy. I thought he was pretty great, but he, well, have you heard of the Prowler?”

“Wait, that guy who snuck around and did all the jobs no one else wanted?” Johnny’s brow furrows. “That’s your uncle?” 

“Yep, and he wanted to take me under his wing.”

Johnny takes a deep breath and turns to him. “Miles, did he do something to you?”

Miles frowned, “No... nothing too bad. He just… he made me do some things that I regret. Badly.”

“I’m not here to make you hate your uncle or anything, but you need to know that whatever he made you do isn’t your fault. He coerced you into doing those things and you did them because you trusted him. That’s not on you.” 

“I guess. I was a pretty useful thief, what with my camouflaging. And now I get to stop people who do the same things I did… Thanks for letting me get this off my chest,” Miles says quietly, giving him a small smile.

Johnny’s smile is tight. “Any time, kid.” He glances back at the tent. “I’ll wake Peter up, get him to cook for us. He deserves to treat us like kings after everything he did yesterday. Forcing me on a road trip, tagging along on your adventure…” Johnny winks as he stands up. 

Miles chuckles, “Welcome to the life of a superhero - filled with the weird and unexpected.”

“I’m sure I can get used to this.” Johnny laughs as he steps inside the tent. 

Peter’s already awake, sitting with his knees to his chest and tears streaming down his face.

Johnny curses. “You heard that, didn’t you?” he whispers as he moves their sleeping bag around, hopefully creating enough noise to block Miles from hearing. 

Peter nods, sniffling. 

“All of it?” 

“I heard everything,” Peter croaks, hiding his face in his knees as his shoulders shake. 

Johnny drops down beside him and pulls him in for a hug. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. Get it out now, because he can’t see you like this.” 

Peter nods, tucking himself into Johnny’s arms. 

Miles opens the tent, “Hey Johnny, you need-” He stops, sees Peters crying face and falters. “...You heard,” he says simply.

Peter looks up with his brow furrowed. “Heard what?” He hiccups. 

“...What's going on here?” he asks, looking to Johnny.

“Don’t look at me, I just walked in here,” Johnny whispers, kissing Peter’s forehead. 

Peter shrugs him off. “Had a nightmare,” he says, looking away. “Just shook me.” 

Miles looks sheepish. “Oh, uh, sorry. I’ll leave you two to it. Feel better.” He scampers out of the tent, zipping it shut behind him.

Johnny squeezes Peter tight. “That was pretty cool of you.” 

“I can be cool,” Peter whispers. “I just… I want to be there for him, Johnny. I want him to be able to talk to me. Why doesn’t he trust me?”

“He does. He just looks up to you too much to let you in.” Johnny sighs. “Spider-Man’s a big role to fill and try to match, Pete.” 

Peter shakes his head, shuffling the sleeping bags again. “Doesn’t he know I blame myself for Ben? And my parents? Or what about the fact that I nearly got all of my friends killed on my science trip? Or-” Peter shoves his face in Johnny’s chest and cries. 

Johnny holds him. It’s all he can do. 

He takes Peter’s hand in his. “Is this your string with Miles?”

“Yeah.” 

“You guys will be okay. Look, it’s still strong, right?” 

Peter tries to ignore how thin the yellow string wrapped around his palm is. It’s fraying, close to snapping with each passing second. He tries not to see how faint the string is, how faint the path to Miles is. 

He should have paid more attention. 

He should have been there. 

He should have done more. 

He could have. 

And now look at him.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's showtime.

“So, my Uncle is kinda tall, may have some weapons on him and is probably covered in burns. Any questions?” Miles begins, looking at Peter and Johnny.

Peter blinks up at him. “The hell are you on about?” 

Miles smiles awkwardly, “You know, the whole reason we’re here? On this road trip? It would probably be better if you have a description of the guy we’re looking for?”

“Yeah, but you can’t just describe your uncle out of the blue. We were just talking about bacon and breakfast and you just… come out and say that?” Peter laughs. 

Johnny shakes his head. “Follow the conversation, Peter. We were obviously about to start talking about the day and our plan.” Johnny rolls his eyes as he laughs into his hand. 

“And by the way, Peter, you can hardly talk. I remember the time Gobby hit you hard and you started blabbering about Wall street stock exchanges.”

“Yeah, after I was hit in the head. You haven’t been smacked around in the past twenty-four hours, if I remember correctly.” Peter reaches down and flips the bacon on the pan hovering over the fire. 

“There's lost time to account for. You don’t know, maybe I got into a fight with a robber? Thought about that?” Miles questions, raising an eyebrow.

Peter scoffs. “If you got hit hard enough with just a robber, you need to work on your fighting skills, Pikachu.”

“You get my point. But seriously, I have a feeling we’re getting close,” Miles says.

Johnny clears his throat. “How close?”

“‘I think we might see him today’ close, if all goes well.”

“If you can figure out where he is,” Peter says. 

“Right. But I’m sure I can. Is the bacon almost ready?” Miles asks, peering over the pan.

Peter hums as he pulls it off the pan. “Give it a second, at least,” he mumbles. “What are you wanting to do when we see him?” 

Miles shifts uncomfortably. “Well, talk to him I guess. He was dead the last time I saw him, so…”

“Fair enough,” Peter says. He takes a slice of bacon off the plate. “How do you feel?” he asks softly.

Miles shrugs, refusing to look Peter in the eye, “I’m alright. Just gotta deal with it and see what happens.”

“Well, we’ve got your back,” Peter says. He reaches over and pats Miles on the back. 

Miles gives him a smile, “Yeah, otherwise, you wouldn’t be who knows how far from home with me on a wild goose chase.”

“Exactly.” Peter leans into Johnny’s side. He watches Miles eat for a minute, studying him with the same sad eyes he always hates Aunt May using on him. “Are you ready for all outcomes?”

“Best as I can be. Worst case scenario, he tells my parents everything. No big deal, right?” Miles chuckles awkwardly.

“Oh totally,” Peter says, “who needs a secret identity anyway?”

Miles gives him a look, “I’m not having this conversation with you again. I’m telling them when I move out.”

“I wasn’t trying to bring that up,” Peter says. “I-” 

Johnny slaps a hand over Peter’s mouth. “Gave Miles’ identity up the second time we met as superheroes, so maybe you just shut up, Pete?” Johnny says, smiling.

Miles’ jaw drops, “I thought you knew him for longer than that! Peter, what the hell?!”

“In his defense, I figured out who he was because he wouldn’t stop gushing over-” Johnny looks at Peter. “What’d you call me? ‘Johnny freakin’ Storm?’”

Peter gives him the finger. 

Johnny takes his hand in his and looks up at Miles. “Peter’s not good with secrets apparently. But yeah, we’ve only really been friends for like three days.” 

“ And you were friends for, like, a day max before getting together,” Miles points out.

Peter points at him, nodding.

Johnny shrugs. “We found out we’re soulmates, things move quickly once that bomb is dropped.” 

Miles snorts. “Yeah alright.” He turns to Peter, “I’m never going to let you live down that you gave up my secret identity after you had met someone twice. Just so you know.”

Johnny lets his hand fall from Peter’s mouth, hanging around his shoulder. 

“Technically I’ve known Johnny for years-”

“That doesn’t count,” Johnny says. 

Peter groans. “You guys can’t gang up on me like this.”

“Well, what if Firebutt over here was a supervillain? What then, huh?” Miles says smugly, leaning his head on his hand.

“I already vetted him,” Peter says, “we had that discussion the first time we met. I knew he was cool.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Miles looks thoughtful for a moment before a look of glee spreads all over his face. “Wait, does that mean there's gonna be ship wars over you and I and you and him?”

Peter throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, I hope so,” he says. 

* * *

When they set out later that morning, Miles had called shotgun and was in the front seat, fiddling with his string. Leaving Johnny still driving and Peter stuck in the back.

“I feel like this is wrong on so many levels,” Peter whines as he lays down along the seat. 

“He called shotgun, Pete.” Johnny shrugs as he adjusts his mirror. 

Miles looks over his shoulder, “How’s it feel to be me?”

Peter rolls his eyes and slips his mask over his head. “Feels like I’ll be able to catch up on the sleep you made me lose.” 

Miles snorts into his hand, “Yeah you do that. Now what music to pick, since I’m up here and all…”

Johnny puts a hand on his radio and glares at Miles. “My car, my radio, my music. That’s the rule.”

“Oh come on, the best part about being in the front is picking the music,” Miles whines.

“You could always walk?” Johnny says. 

Peter sits up, mask half on. “Can I pick the music, Johnny?” He leans forward and lays his chin on Johnny’s shoulder.

“Peter, you’re cute and all, but not that cute.” Johnny reaches back to grab Peter’s hand. 

Miles can’t help his smug grin. “I’m glad to see there's some equality in this car.”

“We still going northwest?” Johnny asks, shifting so he can lean back into Peter’s touch. 

“Yeah, wait, wait, no it’s more north now. We’re definitely getting close,” Miles murmurs the last part more to himself.

Peter glares at Miles. “Are you telling me we didn’t have to camp out last night?” 

“I’m not complaining,” Johnny mumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure.” Peter lets go and turns to Miles. “Are we an hour close or close in general?”

“Well, gotta see if it shifts more.” Miles watches the string closely and sees it shift more east again. “I think twenty minutes tops.”

Peter leans back in his seat and fiddles with the string on his palm, watching the trees pass. 

Over the course of ten minutes, it kept shifting east. Coming up through the trees was a small town, quaint-looking but shabby. It looked like it had popped out of an old-timey cartoon with the occasional upgraded modern-day building in between.

“Well, I would have thought he would have chosen… not here,” Miles mumbles. “Like, a place with at least a thousand more people.”

“Does it matter when it’s this far into the woods no one knows it exists?” Peter asks. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Make a right here Johnny.”

Johnny turns right, tires skidding.

Miles watches his string closely, butterflies flapping around his stomach in a swarm. “I think he’s on this road. Keep an eye out.”

Peter glances down at his palm, where the single thread of yellow wraps around his hand. He curses under his breath and looks up. “Let’s do this.” 

Outside of the town, far away from the few shops popped up there, a house came into view. It wasn’t dirty or unkempt but it still managed to look downtrodden, like the owner simply didn’t care. As they passed, the string swung to the left. “Johnny, he’s back there,” Miles said, shifting in his seat to look back.

Johnny parks the car. He shuts off the engine and shifts to look at Miles. “What’s the plan?”

Peter sits up, Spider-Man mask on. “Want us to suit up in case you need back-up?”

Miles nods, chewing on his lip. “Yeah, good idea. I have mine under my clothes anyway. Uh, you guys stay here, I’ll shout if I need you. This might take a while.” He gives them both a small smile and hops out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

Peter climbs over the console and sits in the front seat, watching as Miles walks around the car. “Dammit,” he curses, “hang on.” Peter opens the car door and chases after him. “Kid,” he whispers, “wait up.”

Miles stops and turns to him, hands in his pockets. He frowns at him. “Peter, I’m fine. You don’t need to follow me into everything.”

“I just want to say,” Peter whispers, “that whatever happens back there, whatever you find out, it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things. All that matters is that- That you have your family. That you have your parents and me and all of your friends. We’re what matters because we care about you.” He pulls Miles into a hug and squeezes him as tight as can be. “Be careful back there. Don’t do anything I’d do and just… be careful. We need you back home, Pikachu.” 

Miles smiles bitterly into his shoulder. “He’s my family too. I messed up with him and I’ve got to make things right. I’ll let you know how it goes, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says as he grabs ahold of Miles’ shirt once more before letting him go, “you’ll be alright. You got this. Good luck, Miles.” Peter turns and jogs back to the mustang, slipping in beside Johnny. 

Miles watched him go, and when he got back in he turned back around and kept on moving. Every step felt like an eternity, yet as slow as a snail as he approached Aaron’s house. There was nothing like seeing your dead relative that you had killed to make you nervous.

He wandered up the path, fiddling absently with a loose thread on his sleeve, and stepped up to the front door. He hesitated at the door, took a deep breath and knocked.

There was some shuffling inside, then silence. Deafening silence. “Who’s there?” A voice croaked.

“I’m looking for Aaron Davis, does he live here?” Miles asked the person behind the door, shifting on the balls of his feet.

“Why, who wants to know?” The person asked suspiciously.

Miles began to chew on his lips again. “I’m Miles Morales. I’m his nephew? I just want to see him. Please.”

There was another pause, it seemed infinite yet it only lasted a couple of seconds. There were several clicks and bangs before the door opened, revealing Uncle Aaron. Or, what looked like him. His skin was patchy and raised, the scars of his burn covering all of him. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, revealing his arms to be the worst affected area. Where his gauntlets had been. His beard had greyed with time, a stark contrast to the dark black it had been. Miles couldn’t help but stare and try not to flinch away.

“Hey little man, finally decided to come crawling back?” He asks, leaning on the door frame. He doesn’t let Miles in.

Miles swallows, struggling to keep his voice even. “You were dead. I saw your body in the morgue. We buried you. How are you alive?”

Aaron leans down, getting in Miles’ face. The stench of alcohol surrounds him, suffocates him, as Aaron breathes in his face. “I  _ said _ , have you decided to come crawling back?”

“No,” Miles says firmly, his fingers curling into a fist in his pocket. “You should have never used me like that. Ever. How are you alive?”   
  


Aaron smiles wickedly at that, “I’ve got no use for you then. You mutant freaks are all the same, trying to play the hero. Head home and corrupt the rest of the world with your disease, why don’t you? Say hi to Jeff for me while you’re at it.”

Miles shakes his head, chin quivering. “That's it? No explanation? Nothing? I came all this way for you to call me a freak?”

Aaron shoves a finger into his chest, “You fucked up all my plans. I was going to be the next Kingpin,” his face curls into a sneer, “but you couldn’t even control your own powers-”

“I was _ fourteen _ !” Miles shouts, squaring his shoulders. “You dragged me into every dangerous situation you could think of and used me! You wanted me to kill people!”

Aaron looks unfazed. He gestures to himself, “You got pretty close, didn’t ya?”

His fists connects to Aarons's face without thought. Aaron stumbles back, hand on his nose. Through his fingers Miles’s can see blood dripping down his face. Aaron laughs, something ugly and mean.

“Mu tant freak,” Aaron spits. “Get off my property.”

Miles blinks tears out of his eyes, “I should have never looked up to you. You’re a monster-”

The door slams in his face, clipping him on the nose. He doesn’t even notice, wiping the tears off his face. He steps back, shaking his fist out. He should have expected this, but somehow the small child in him getting promised a happy meal had brought his hopes so high. Like Uncle Aaron hadn’t hurt him in those first three months he had had his powers. Forcing him to train every evening until he dropped from exhaustion. Forcing him to steal. Wrapping his every word in lie and blackmail, threatening to tell his Dad about his  _ mutant son _ .

Now here he was, with a sore wrist and his hopes let down once again.

But this wasn’t over. This couldn’t be it. He had to have his answer, otherwise, he had led them all on a wild goose chase for nothing.

Miles walked down the path and away from the house, but instead of walking towards the car where he would have to tell Johnny and Peter about his failure, he walked into the woods.


	10. Chapter Nine

Peter’s fingers drum against the dash. “He’s been in there for a while.” 

Johnny nods, eyes closed. He’s laying down, seat leaning back against the back seat. “He’s seeing his uncle for the first time in a while, Peter. They’re probably just catching up.” 

“You don’t catch up with your dead uncle,” he says. “You figure out what happened and then you leave-”

“Peter, stop worrying. It’s only been like three minutes. Sit back,” Johnny says.

Peter huffs as he leans back, watching the door. He glances down at Johnny. “Are we together together or just-”

Johnny opens an eye and smiles. “Why? You want me to be your boyfriend?” 

“Well, duh?” 

Johnny sits up. “If you want to be all formal, and I kissed you first and made the first move…”

Peter rolls his eyes and lifts his mask up to the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he says. “Will you be my boyfriend, Storm?” 

Johnny kisses him, hand on the back of Peter’s neck. “Course, I will.”

Peter hugs Johnny, leaning over the console and nearly in his lap. He’s closer to the house, close enough that if he were to listen in, he might be able to listen in without too much of a strain on his ears. 

He listens in, ignoring the soothing sounds of Johnny’s heartbeat and the thrum of the air conditioner. Peter hears someone moving around, a TV playing a rerun of an old sitcom, but only the one person. 

“Shit,” he says, pulling away from Johnny. “Miles isn’t there- and If he is in there, then he’s screwed.” Peter scrambles out of the car, tugging his mask back on, and runs toward the door. 

Johnny rushes to follow. 

Peter kicks in the door and webs Aaron to the wall. He looks fine; angry and his cheek bruised, but fine. “Where’d he go?” 

“Spider-Man?” Aaron says, confused. He hadn’t started to struggle, yet.

“No shit,” Peter says as Johnny steps up beside him, flames covering his face. “Where did he go? What did you do with him?”

“I didn’t do anything to that mutant  _ freak _ ,” he spits. “Get out of my house!”

Johnny steps forward. “Answer the question,” he says as his fists of fire get closer to Aaron’s face. “Where’d he go?” 

“I don’t know! I slammed the door on his face. Not my fault you freaks can’t keep track of each other,” Aaron says, grinning despite himself.

Peter pulls Johnny back. “He’s telling the truth; he doesn’t know where he is.” He pushes Johnny toward the door, but as he takes a step away, Peter whirls around and knocks Aaron out. He shakes out his hand as he looks to Johnny. “I’m going to call the police, tell him where Aaron is. I looked him up this morning and he’s got a few warrants. You can get around faster out here, so go find Miles.” 

Johnny nods and tosses Peter his phone. “I have better service.” He backs away to the door. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

* * *

Miles slowly takes deep breaths, head leaning against the trunk of the tree he’s in. He has to go back soon, he has to confront Uncle Aaron again, but that didn’t mean he wanted to do it right away.

He fiddles with his Uncle’s string, studying it absently as he tries to calm down. The red thread had gotten thicker since he had last looked at it. Which wasn’t surprising considering everything. Being called a mutant freak wasn’t… nice.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a yellow trail of fire moving over the top of the trees. Miles blinks, then frowns. Was that…? No way, that was Johnny. What was he doing?

Miles stands up on the branch, leaning forward as much as he can to watch him.

Johnny extinguishes his flames and hovers over the tree. “Miles, are you alright?”

“Why aren’t you back at the car?” Miles asks to avoid answering the questioning, folding his arms.

“We were getting worried so Peter listened in and didn’t hear anything. We thought you had gotten hurt or something so we came looking.” 

Miles looks down at his feet, “I didn’t get hurt. Uh, actually I punched him… So…”

Johnny laughs. “Oh, that’s great. Dude’s just chilling in his house and then two spiders come in and knock his lights out.” He wipes at an imaginary tear. “This is great.” 

Miles gives him a small, strained smile. “Right. Yeah, pretty funny. I was going to head back and apologise anyway…”

“To your uncle?” Johnny asks, calming down. 

“Yeah? I shouldn’t have punched him.” Miles says.

Johnny winces. “Yeah, so, you might not get the chance.” 

Miles frowns at Johnny, “What have you two done?”

“For the record, I’m following Peter’s plan. He webbed your uncle and knocked him out, now the cops are on their way to arrest him.” Johnny puts his hands on his hips. 

Miles buries his head in his hand and groans. He takes a deep breath. “So you’re telling me that Peter webbed my Uncle up, knocked him out and then called the cops in the five minutes I’ve been here?”

“Pretty much.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Miles declares, pulling his mask out of his suit pocket and swinging towards the house.

Johnny presses his lips together. “Yeah, I saw that coming.” 

* * *

Peter’s shaking hands with a cop when Miles walks in. 

“P- Spider-Man, we need to talk.  _ Now _ .” Miles hisses, grabbing his arm and dragging him away.

Peter doesn’t argue, just lets Miles drag him out of the house and into the woods. “You okay?” he asks once they’re hidden from plain view. 

“What part of ‘you don’t need to follow me into everything’ did you  _ not get _ ? I had it handled! I just needed a breather.” Miles asks, folding his arms.

“You went in to see the Prowler, Miles. He might be your uncle, but he’s capable of dangerous things. I let you go in alone, but I-” Peter shakes his head. “I thought he might have incapacitated you, so I took action.” 

“He’s a crippled  _ normal _ human that I’ve fought before when he  _ had weapons _ , Peter. You didn’t need to fight him for me, or at all!” Miles points out through gritted teeth.

“Maybe I didn’t, but I did what I thought was right and I won’t apologize for that.” 

“You’ve screwed up me ever finding out what happened or saying sorry. That was the whole reason we went on this road trip!” Miles yells.

“How was I supposed to know you were okay?” Peter steps forward. “I thought you were dead, Miles. I thought he had killed you and I can’t live with myself knowing I let you die. So yeah, I stepped in. Yes, I probably shouldn’t have, but I don’t care. I just don’t. I can apologize until I’m blue, but I won’t mean it, because now I know you’re okay.”

Miles swallows and takes a few steps back. “You could have texted me or something,” he says in a small voice.

“I could have and he would text me back saying you were fine. A text isn’t enough proof.” Peter shook his head. “I needed to go in there and see for myself that you were okay.”

“So you knocked him out? After webbing him up?” Miles questions. “I could have at least talked to him before he was dragged off by the police if you had just left him there. Now I can’t say sorry or anything!”

Peter sighs. “Miles, I know that sucks and I’m sorry but I genuinely thought what I was doing was helping.”

“He’s my only family besides my parents, Peter. Don’t you get that? I wanted to make things right,” Miles says bitterly.

“Do I get that? Of course, I do! Don’t you think I could go back and save my Uncle Ben? Or my parents? I don’t know anything about my family other than my parents’ were working with Oscorp. I’d give anything to make things right, to the point I’d give my life for them, and I know you would too Miles. You’d give your life over to Aaron for his approval because you love him more than he loves you,” Peter says, face growing red. “I’m trying to save you from that pain again.”

“You don’t have to save me from anything. I killed Aaron, and now my only chance to make things right is gone. Forever.”

“But you didn’t kill him! He’s still alive, Miles! You didn’t kill him!” Peter runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “That man used you, he abused you, and he ruined you and all you did was defend yourself. You didn’t kill him, Miles.” 

“How do you know anything?” Miles spits, tears threatening to spill over. “I  _ never _ told you what happened. You shouldn’t know anything.”

“You and I both know you’re not naive enough to think I didn’t overhear you and Johnny this morning,” Peter says softly.

“This is why I didn’t want you to come with me. This is  _ exactly _ why I wanted to do this on my own.” Miles wipes away a tear. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Peter looks down at his hands, running his thumb over his palm. He couldn’t feel his string. He really messed this up… “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Peter sighs. 

“Let's just go home and pretend this never happened. Okay?” Miles whispers, walking past Peter.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Peter says, still looking at his hand. He tears the fabric of his suit off his hand and runs a finger over the skin, tracing where their yellow string used to be. 

Miles stops in place but doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Peter.

“You said that Aaron was your only family other than your parents and you’re wrong. You’re wrong on so many levels it hurts, Miles.” Peter looks up, tucking the loose ends up his sleeve to deal with later. “Aaron was never your family. Or at least not toward the end of his life.” 

“He’s my Dad’s brother. How is he not family?” Miles says softly.

“Family isn’t just about who happens to share your DNA or is on your family tree. It’s about the people you love with every fiber in your being, the people you’d give everything for them to be happy, the people who would sacrifice the same for you. Aaron was selfish and mistreated you, Miles. He only wanted you around for those few months to get what he wanted, to become whatever man he thought he needed to be.” 

  
Peter takes a step forward. “Family may not be supportive of everything at first, but the good ones always have you back in the end. Aaron should have helped you understand your powers so you can survive, not train you to be the next superhero or villain. That’s your choice. Family is your support system, the people who split your heart in little sections that burst whenever they shower you with affection. Family is who you choose to call family.” 

Miles takes a deep breath, wiping away the last of his tears. “You should be Captain America with a speech like that,” Miles tries to joke, giving Peter a small smile.

“Oh, you didn’t hear? I hired Cap to be my ghostwriter.” Peter scratches at his palm, fingers dipping under the torn fabric to get to the itch. “He’s telling me what to say right now.” 

Miles smiles now, a real one. Then it disappears, “I’m sorry Peter, for making you come all this way for nothing. ...Thanks for looking out for me.”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have respected your boundaries more and realized you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. And it was nothing,” Peter says as he steps closer, “you needed answers and you tried to get them. I don’t think you’ll ever fully have them answered, but at least you got some, right?” His index finger nudges something as his palm grows itchier. He looks down, pulling the fabric away, to see a bright green string wrapped around his hand just like his yellow one had been. “Miles, look!” 

Miles looks down, and then his eyes go wide in wonder. “Wait, is that our string?”

“Yeah, it’s gotta be. No wonder it was getting all pale and thin,” Peter laughs, “we got an upgrade!” 

Miles’s jaw drops. “What do you mean it got pale and thin?”

Peter’s brow furrows. “You haven’t noticed our string basically dying on us? It was barely a thread this morning, just about completely gone.” 

“I’m an asshole,” Miles mutters.

“We’re both assholes, it’s why we get along,” Peter says. 

Miles can’t help but grin at that. “Well, family, want to head home now?”

Peter nods, slipping his mask back on. “Yeah, let’s get out of here. We left Johnny with the cops and I’m ninety-nine percent sure this is his first superhero arrest.”

Miles snorts, “And I’m pretty sure these cops have never seen a guy with his head on fire. We should go rescue him.”

“Definitely.” Peter shoots a web up into a tree and runs forward. “Last one there buys dinner!” 

“I literally don’t have any money!” Miles yells after him, but still picks up the chase.

“You will when we swing by your house later.” 

* * *

Miles watches the world go by from the backseat, elbow leaning against the arm rest as he cushions his head on his hand. Every now and again the GPS from Johnny’s phone chimes in about which way to go. Turns out they had driven all the way to outside Watertown, New York.

But now that they were heading back, just days after they had set out, it left Miles with the awkward question of what to do about his ‘Harvard scholarship program.’ He had left himself until Friday to find Uncle Aaron, and it was Sunday.

“Hey Peter?” Miles says softly, not sure if he was asleep or not.

Peter sits up from where he had been laying on Johnny’s shoulder. “Yeah?” 

“What was it like when you told Aunt May about being Spider-Man?” Miles asks, barely maintaining eye contact.

“A relief,” he says. “She found me in the suit and she freaked out at first, but it was really touching. I cried all night, I think.” Peter lays his head back down. “It was what I had needed at the time and I had no idea. Keeping a secret from your guardian in your house that’s nothing more than a couple of rooms is so stressful that you forget how you’re supposed to act. You lose what you used to have,” he says. 

Miles looks almost wistful. He looks down at his lap. “I, uh, may have said that I was on a Harvard Scholarship Program. And that I would be home Friday…” he admits.

Peter sits back up. “What?” 

Miles chuckles, “I made an official looking form and everything. And the school thinks I’m away sick until Friday too…”

“So what the hell are you going to do?” 

Johnny lets out a whistle. “He’s got skill.” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Peter laughs. 

“Well, why do you think I’m asking you about when you revealed your secret identity?” Miles says. “I’m either crashing at your place till Friday or I’m telling them.”

“Wow,” Peter says. “That’s a big decision. What do you want to do?”

Miles shrugs, “I really don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if they’ll even let me keep on being Spidey.”

“They’ll probably ask you to cut back.” 

Miles grimaces, “I don’t want that to happen either.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, then says, “What if you come with me when I tell them?”

“If that’s what you want, you know I’ll be there,” Peter says. 

“Just don’t do it on Wednesday night,” Johnny says. “I’m taking Peter out that night.”

Peter looks over at him. “You are?”

“Yeah, it’s the only night this week I don’t have work and I figured we could patrol after so you didn’t have to miss it. We might be official already but that doesn’t mean we can skip a first date, Peter,” Johnny says, eyes skirting from the dark road to Peter every few words.

Miles rolls his eyes at their antics. “I just think if you can back me up on how I’ve kept my grades up and that if I’m in a tight spot you help me they might go easier on me. Y’know?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Peter smiles.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after...

“Hey Dave, did you hear about what happened to the Prowler?”

Dave looks up from the drink he’s been nursing for the last half hour. “I heard that somethin’ happened. I don’t know what though.”

“He got arrested up in Watertown. Spider-Man busted him,” The guy says, leaning in close like he’s telling a secret.

“Which one?”

“Both! I heard through the grapevine that the black Spider-Man used to work with the Prowler before he became a goody two shoes.”

Daves jaws drops. “No way, what changed?”

“Well, the lil twerp made his suit explode during a fight, scarred him up and everything. So you know what happened?” The guy asks his attentive audience of one. “Kingpin faked his death and let him go hide up there in Watertown. No more competition from him for his position.”

“How did they find him then?” Dave asks.

“No idea, but now he's rotting in jail. Life sentence for smuggling weapons or somethin’. When his place was raided they found a room full of grenades and all sorts of guns. Even a flamethrower.”

“Flamethrower?!”

“You called?” Johnny asks, leaning against the bar with his elbow knocking into the bowl of peanuts, hand on his chin. He’s way too close to Dave’s friend, sweat forming on the guy’s forehead from Johnny’s flaming head. 

Peter groans as he leans against the bar beside Dave. “That’s not your name, Torch.”

“It could be,” Johnny says. “I’m not opposed to changing it. The Flamethrower has a nice ring to it and is more accurate. The Human Torch is a bit tame, don’t you think? I don’t light the way for people-”

“You could,” Peter says as he adjusts his webshooters. “Torch sounds more hopeful than the Flamethrower.”

“Well, what do you think, Spider-Man?” Johnny asks. 

“I just gave you my opinion!” Peter says. 

“No, the other Spider-Man!” Johnny motions in between the guys as Miles uncamouflagues. 

“I need a new codename, I swear,” Miles says, “but I think you should be called flamethrower. I mean, Human Torch is just kinda cheesy.”

Johnny looks to Peter. “See, he gets it.” 

Peter crosses his arms. “What does he know? He can’t even come up with his own name, he just took mine.” 

“Hey, it goes with our whole theme. I don’t wanna be called Spider-boy, and you haven’t helped me,” Miles points out.

“You could have gone with a spider name? Like… Tarantula or something?” Peter says. 

Dave, who’s head has been bobbing between the three of them as they talk, asks, “Is this really what you guys talk about?”

Peter’s head snaps in his direction. “Would you rather us fast-forward to kicking your ass?” 

Dave scoots away, “Uh, he’s the bad guy, punch him!” He says, pointing to his mate.

“Hey! I thought we had a deal!” The guy says, all hurt betrayal.

Dave shrugs, “If you want to fight a guy who can light himself on fire, be my guest.”

Peter webs their mouths shut before they can say anything else. “We don’t have time for meaningless pleading,” he says. “I’m starving and you two are standing in the way of me getting my Big Mac and fries.”

“Meal of Heroes,” Johnny laughs. 

Miles grabs Daves’ shoulder, “Hope you like jail, buddy.”

* * *

“So that's three large big mac meals, two with Coca-Colas and one with Fanta?” The server at McDonald's drones, clearly too tired to be impressed by three superheroes, one with his head on fire.

“Yes, thank you,” Johnny says as he hands over his card. 

The lady cards them through and then gives them their receipt, waving them away. Miles drags them off to the side. “Hey Torch, you ever think about wearing a mask instead of, y’know, that?”

Johnny nods. “Yeah, our team is in development with making our official suits. Reed just made me this so I didn’t burn through all of my clothes,” he says, motioning to his blue and black suit. “We’ll probably have masks, but I’m thinking about just saying screw it. Secret identities look like they suck, no offense you guys.” 

“Oh no,” Peter says, “you’re right, they do suck.”

“Especially when someone sees a sliver of hair or something and think they can now discover your identity. I wish I hadn’t scrolled through all those forums trying to figure mine out,” Miles half laughs, shaking his head.

“And Heaven forbid your mask comes off or is ripped during a fight. Then you’ve given your opponent all the leverage.” 

“I remember that one time good ol’ JJ sent everyone after your mask. That was funny then but terrifies me now,” Miles shivers.

“How do you think I felt?” Peter laughs. He grabs their food from the employee (Johnny grabs the drinks) and guides them outside. He swings to the roof and starts digging through the bags. “But you have to be sure that you want your identity out there, Johnny. You can always take the mask off, but you can’t put it back on once it’s out there.” 

Johnny extinguishes the flames and settles in beside him. He takes his burger and hands Peter his coke. “You both do realize I’m already famous? Right?”

Miles snorts around his half-demolished burger. “Yeah Peter, he’s got his name on billboards everywhere. Tell me again how you told Johnny about your big fat supermodel crush?”

Peter tosses a fry at his face. “You eat like an animal, you know that? And no, you don’t get that story again. You both can’t hold that over my head forever.” Peter pulls up the bottom half of his mask and unwraps his burger. “It’s just not fair.” 

“Ok, I’ll get Johnny to tell it next time. That reminds me, is Johnny going to have Spider-Man as his boyfriend or Peter? Or are you going to say it’s a polyamorous thing? Logistics of secret identities and all.”

Johnny bites his lip. “I was thinking about having Peter be my boyfriend, but it’s up to him.” 

“Unfortunate, you’ll have to hide your ‘we almost died’ makeout sessions. And don’t lie, I saw you two spread cooties after that Sandman fight,” Miles says, getting ready to dodge another fry.

Peter and Johnny assault him with fries from both angles. 

Miles manages to catch a few and stuff them in his face, “fanks for da ies!” He says through his mouthful.

Peter rolls his eyes and bumps Johnny’s shoulder. “I’m cool with either, by the way. It’s up to you.” 

Johnny shrugs. “I’d rather spend time with you as Peter than as Spider-Man. Don’t get me wrong, Spider-Man is hot and all, but for dates? Peter is a much better companion.” 

Peter smiles and kisses Johnny’s cheek. “I agree.”

Miles makes a face. “I regret bringing this up.”

“Then why did you?” Peter asks through a mouthful. 

“So hot,” Johnny laughs as he takes a bite of his own. 

Peter winks at him. 

“I don’t even know, Peter. But mark my words, when I get my own partner I’ll shove it down your throats as revenge,” Miles declares.

Johnny points a finger at him. “Hey, the only thing we shove down each other’s throats in front of you is our tongues. Be grateful its-”

Peter tackles Johnny with a shriek. “He’s just a kid, Johnny! Don’t corrupt him. None of us should know that kind of information about each other, God.” 

“He’s the one who keeps bringing stuff up!” 

Peter groans as he gets off of him and pops his last fry into his mouth with a frown. “Dammit, we wasted all our fries, Johnny.” 

“I”ll go grab us some more,” Johnny says, already flying off the roof. 

Miles wriggles his eyebrows at Peter, “So he’s your sugar daddy too?”

“Hell yeah, he’s my sugar daddy,” Peter says. “You should see his bank account. It’s a nice bonus to the relationship.” 

Miles dissolves into laughter, “As long as I can third wheel some of that money, I’m happy!”

Peter sips his coke. “We’ll see.” He crumples his trash into the bag and leans back. “You know, I think I finally figured out what a fanfiction feels like.” 

“What, with all the pointless drama we went through?” Miles asks, tipping his head to the side.

“I mean, sure, but I was more so talking about this moment right now,” Peter says. 

“I don’t follow. You dissociating dude? Need some good ol therapy?”

Peter throws his head back and groans. “No, I’m fine. I’m just saying that this moment feels… precious in a sense. Like after everything we’ve been through, we’re getting a happy ending. At least for now.” 

Miles grins, “‘for now’ being our keywords.”

“We’re too young for a happy ending,” Peter says. “I’m totally fine with just a few days of peace before something big happens again, you know?”

“Otherwise our lives would be  _ way _ too boring.”

“Then we wouldn’t be superheroes. Just normal people in costumes, running around like weirdos.” 

“True that!”

Peter glances down at his chest, where his string is pressed against the skin under his suit. “I’m still shocked I found my soulmate.” 

“When your string lights on fire, it tends to be a bit easier,” Miles says with a grin.

“I genuinely thought he had died in a fire,” Peter says. “There was no explanation other than a fiery death for Johnny for my string to just burst into flames while I slept.” 

“I mean, you're not wrong. But at the same time, these things are meant to be cosmic or something right? You get with a person in the end ninety-nine percent of the time,” Miles hums, absently twirling one of his strings.

Peter considers this. “I wonder how they decide soulmates.” 

Johnny flies back with a bag of fries. “Soulmates?” 

“Yeah, we’re talking about soulmates in general,” Peter says. He looks back to Miles. “Think about it, if everyone has a soulmate, then what part of the soul do they match with? Or are they absolutely compatible? Like does Rhino have a soulmate out there that matches his motives and personality, or are they the sweetest person to exist and completely naive to his villain life?” 

Miles laughs, “You’re thinking about this too hard. You’ve got your soulmate, now have fun together!”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Okay, Miles, fine. I’ll go have fun with Johnny, but you can sit here and think about how you might be the soulmate to Doc Ock or the Green Goblin. Hell, maybe even Flash.” 

Miles recoils in disgust, “That’s too far! That’s it! I’m out! I’m going to do some actual work unlike you slackers,” he declares as he gets up and walks towards the edge. “Peace!”

With that, he lets himself fall back and into a swing, disappearing into distance quicker than you can say ‘she sells seashells by the seashore.’

Peter laughs, leaning against Johnny as they watch him. 

Johnny hands him a carton of fries. “Think he’ll be back tonight?” 

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t mind if it was just us either.” Peter takes a fry. “He’s strong enough to be on his own, after all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much for reading this story. Sparkstarthetrashcan and I worked so hard on this universe and it's not over! We have so much more in store, so if you want to read more with our Miles and Peter, subscribe to the Strung Together Universe. So many prequels, oneshots, and sequels await!! 
> 
> Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> We want to take this opportunity to thank our amazing artists onesp1cyboi and the-italian-pasta, our betas wolvesandgrace and petebparker, our coach multifandomfics, the entire SpiderVerse Big Bang community, and yourselenite who inspired this fic with their love of soulmate AUs. Thank you all for reading this story, we're really proud of everything it has become and we can't wait to share this universe with you.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Love, ohstars and sparkstarthetrashcan


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